


Love Lies Sleeping

by Scavenge4Dreams



Series: Insomniac Dreaming [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Protective Steve, Sleepiness, Smarm, Sweet, Team Fluff, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scavenge4Dreams/pseuds/Scavenge4Dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Steve took Tony to bed... and one time Tony came on his own.</p><p>                                          *Minds out of the gutter*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forever Love

I have the strength to carry you, the patience to hold you and the will to protect you.

So Sleep.

Forever love, dream of me.


	2. Slumbering Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping is a trust Steve won't see broken.

**1.**

**** **_Friday 31 st -10:02pm_ **

****

 “ _Touch me again birdbrain and I’ll_....” Despite the threat, Tony’s voice was a slow drawl of exasperated amusement as he growled up at the archer, who had been intermittently prodding him for the past hour.

 

Hawkeye- stretched out across the backrest of the long leather lounge, head propped up on one arm and the other hanging down to the seat so as to occasionally torment his teammate, just dug his index finger into Tony’s stomach again and managed a retort amidst his snickering, “ _A_ _nd you’ll what!?_ ”

 

Squawking indignantly and swatting rather ineffectually at the easily evading hand, Tony replied, “ _A_ _nd I’ll have no choice but to ruffle some feathers!_ ”

 

Clint, eyeing the billionaire stretched out on the sofa below him, just threw back his head and laughed as he declared, “You! _And what army!_?”

 

Tony looked at him for an moment, contemplating , and then he dropped a hand onto Bruce’s head and ruffled the brown locks as he cheerfully answered, “I don’t need an army.  I have a hulk!”

 

Bruce, seated cross legged on the floor and leaning against the sofa in front of Tony, looked away from the second movie of their ‘Lord Of The Rings’ marathon to tilt his head back against Tony’s hip so he could see the pair of trouble makers, sending a glance that just screamed, _‘Oh really....’._

Clint adopted a sceptical look as he whined, “Really? You get Bruce? Why do you get Bruce?”

 

Bruce just snorted fondly when Tony answered in a matter-of-fact voice, “Because Science Bro’s before Avenger Bro’s. That’s why.”

 

When Bruce didn’t contradict his ‘Science Bro’, Clint huffed and looked about the room; finally settling on Natasha’s petite form curled into the left armchair and decreed, “Fine! Then I get Tasha!”

 

Natasha didn’t even bat an eyelid, just sent a raised eyebrow their way and turned back to the TV.

 

Tony looked appropriately terrified for an instant and then his hand settled on Bruce’s head again as he said, “Fine, I’ll admit, Tasha is terrifying. But still... _Hulk._ ”

 

Clint poked at Tony again in retaliation and added vehemently, “ _And_ I get Tho-”

 

Tony cut him off by turning to the Thunder God stretched out across 6’4 inches of floor and said, “Thor, oh Thunder God of devout power. I humbly seek your assistance against the wicked Shooty Bird...”

 

Thor grinned mischievously and began to boom, “I am sorry brother Tony...”, but then fell silent as Tony interrupted.

 

The genius added an almost after-thought to his previously sugar coated request, “ _Or else I may suddenly run out of...Poptarts._ ”

 

Thor transitioned rather smoothly, “...Sorry, for Brother Clint’s disgraceful behaviour and I would be honoured to assist you in your quest for justice...”

 

Tony beamed.

 

Clint whined.

 

Tony blew a raspberry.

 

Clint poked him in the stomach again and over the resulting yelp, turned to look down at the only other occupant of the room and declared haughtily, “Well then, in the interest of fairness....as you have Bruce _and_ Thor, then I definitely get Steve.”

 

Tony stilled and looked up at the archer with utterly incredulous eyes, absolutely emanating complete disbelief, before he suddenly erupted into side-splitting laughter.

 

Trying to valiantly suppress sniggers, Tony tightened his left arm about Steve’s waist and looked up from where his head rested in the Captains lap, leaning into the large hand carding slowly through his hair and widening his eyes to their most adorable; and then smiled sweetly into blue, blue eyes.

 

Steve rolled his eyes and tugged gently on a wayward tangle, but sighed, affectionately resigned, and reaching up with his free hand, shoved Clint off the back of the couch.

 

Clint’s scandalised shrieking thud was heard over Thor’s deafening laughter.  Natasha smirked and Bruce grinned quietly. Tony pressed his lips to Steve’s wrist and softened his gaze from overtly manipulative to plain adoration.

 

Steve was always, and unquestionably, Tony’s.

 

***

 

They settled back into the silence that usually accompanied their movie nights, generally a soft cacophony of popcorn munching, soda slurping, sniggers, chuckles and great booming laughter.

 

***

 

The ‘movie night’ tradition had started almost completely by accident, about a month or so into their co-habitation at Stark Tower. Everyone had still been getting their bearings and familiarising themselves with the team; all a little unsure how to interact appropriately with the other members of their world saving super-hero team.

 

Clint had been wondering the tower one Friday evening and had come across Tony watching the late night Sci-fi offerings.  He’d recognised the show and had immediately fetched Natasha, knowing castration could be imminent should he follow any other path.

 

She’d walked into the room, squealed “ _Doctor Who_!” and sinking down gracefully on the carpet in front of the TV. Seeing that Tony did nothing more than shrug and offer his bowl of popcorn, Clint had joined them, dropping down next to Natasha.

20 minutes later, Tony and Natasha’s gushing had drawn Bruce and Thor from their rooms, and Thor had stayed for the popcorn and Bruce the gushing. Steve had wandered in half an hour later and seeing the rest of _his_ team sprawled out across the room, he smiled and plopped down beside Tony.

 

Three hours later, ‘Doctor Who’ had ended and the six of them had separated and headed back to their own individual areas and activities.  

 

It wasn’t until a fortnight later, when on the Thursday, Clint had fractured his ankle in a bad roof jump and, bored out of his mind, the archer had commandeered the best TV by Friday afternoon.  Tony had walked in with a bowl of popcorn at 8:30pm and stopped short when he’d seen Clint; bandaged ankle raised on a pillow, stretched out on the couch. 

 

The billionaire had stared for a moment and then seemed to come to a decision and wandered over, put the bowl in Clint’s lap and then sat, lifting both pillow and ankle into his own lap, and without saying a word, turned his attention to watch Jason Bourne cavort about the screen.   Natasha had turned up 30 minutes later, searching for Clint, with no real reason other than to check on him. Thor once again followed his nose and Steve had followed Thor. Bruce had completed the group 5 minutes later.

 

As the Bourne Ultimatum had drawn to a close, it had been Steve who had asked if there was anything similar to the trilogy they’d just watched, as he had enjoyed it. Thor expressed the same interest.

 

And so they had come together the following Friday evening to watch the ‘Mission Impossible’ franchise until the early hours of the morning. And Pirates of the Caribbean followed the week after that.

 

By then it was a cemented tradition, and whoever was in the house on Friday night met in the main common area to watch whatever was on the agenda that evening; be it the ‘Educate Steve and Thor’ agenda, the ‘Bruce and Tony are nerds’ agenda, the ‘We’re all Superhero’s – you call that action!’ agenda or the ‘Natasha can choose whatever she wants’ agenda.

 

The room they habitually chose wasn’t all that large, but it was,  _cosy_ , for lack of a better word. The colours soft and warm, carpet plush, sofas comfortable and the TV massive.

 

Most of the time Thor would stretch out on the floor like some exotic bearskin mat, huge frame relaxed and comfortable on the carpet, although occasionally he would claim one of the two single armchairs.  

 

 

Natasha curled, whether all but invisible on the couch, or in a little ball on the floor, amid a veritable mountain of pillows.  As their tradition had grown more familiar, and they to each other along with it, she would sometimes substitute her pillows for Thor.

 

Bruce was always a still figure, cross-legged on the carpet, reclining on the couch or seated sensibly on the single seater. He never fidgeted unduly, just a calm, steady presence.

 

Clint liked to, well,  _perch._ On the back of the couch, on the book case, or the window sill, but sometimes, on very rare occasions, depending on SHIELD and missions and assignments, Clint would be curled up in a single armchair with Phil, happily snuggling while he enjoyed the acceptance and closeness of his team (unlike some of his _other_ past experiences).

 

Pepper would join them infrequently, when business allowed for it, padding around in flannel PJ’s with little red peppers dancing across the hem (a gift from Tony – that he _actually_ bought), and she needled the genius like no one else; sticking her nose in his business and bossing him around with enough care and attention to do any older sister proud.

 

Tony usually stretched out on the long sofa, claiming ownership as an excuse (legitimate by all rights), but he never failed to give it up if one of the others was injured, nor did he have any issue sharing, so long as that person (most notably Bruce or Steve) didn’t mind having half a Tony draped over them.

 

Steve, of the most mature and amiable of the group, was happy to sit wherever there was room for him, be it on the sofa with Tony or the floor with Thor.

 

Nine months after the Manhattan Invasion, Steve and Tony finally clued into the fact that _everyone_ assumed they were together.

 

It was a classic case of:

‘WHAT! NO! No we are not in love! We’re not even together.’

 

_Denial, denial, bicker, banter, denial, banter, denial, flirt, deni-WHAM_

_‘_ Why aren’t we together? Let’s get together _’_

_Flirt, banter, talk, bicker, flirt, ARGUE, Confess feeli-_

‘Actually...I think I really do love you...’

 

_Flirt, Schmoop, kiss, angst, flirt, comfort, kiss, make out, get down and dir-_

‘Uh, so yes. Retraction. Eat our words. Yes, we are together. Yes...We are in love.’

 

All in all, it didn’t change much within the team dynamics, not overtly anyway. The only difference it made at Movie Night was that now it was _always_ Steve who was draped with half a Tony.

***

 

Tonight they had settled into watch Natasha’s pick, which was the ‘Lord of the Rings’ trilogy for about the fourth time.  Months ago, Thor had expressed an interest in one of the many nicknames Tony had bestowed upon Clint and Tony had immediately decreed that they watch the ‘ultimate cinematic experience’ at the next movie night.

 

Thor and Steve had initially been sceptical as to the aptness of the nickname; unable to see the correlation between the Elven Prince, tall and slender with his long golden locks, reserved and diffident in nature, and their own compact archer, mischievous, obnoxious and rather outspoken.

 

Halfway through the first movie Legolas had picked up his bow in the fight against the goblins and Cave Troll in Moria.

 

Clint hadn’t been able to shake the nickname for months, no matter how he threatened, whined, ignored or retaliated.

 

Then the ‘Hunger Games’ had come out and ‘ _Katniss_ ’ had practically begged for his _‘Legolas’_ days again.

 

The movie though, had become a team favourite, with Thor loving Gimli’s gregarious personality and Natasha fascinated by Galadriel’s intertwined ethereal nature and powerful grace.  Bruce enjoyed the elven language, finding it to be soothing and somewhat hypnotic. Clint...well, Legolas _was_ wicked with that bow.  Tony liked the duel peacefulness and the raging action, although he also loved the special effects. Steve loved the grand _epicness_ of the quest and the gorgeous backdrop of ‘ _Middle Earth_ ’.

 

As such, no one had protested when Tasha had made her selection, if anyone had even had the guts to protest.

 

The huge ending battle sequences of the second movie were just starting, so they were a good 6 hours in. Clint stood from his ungraceful sprawl behind the couch and eagerly clambered back into his position stretched outcross the top of the backrest, not wanting to miss the elf’s awesome ‘shield slide’ down the steps.

 

The battle raged, with appropriate quips and one-liners echoed and pre-empted by the audience.

 

‘S _hall I describe it to you? Or would you like me to fetch you a box.’_

_‘...Toss me!  Just don’t tell the elf.’_

 

And then Gandalf arrived and the battle, as well as the movie, drew to a close, JARVIS lining up and starting the third before the request could be made.

 

They watched the battle for Middle Earth rage, bowls of popcorn freely passed and offered as the night got steadily later, swiftly approaching midnight.

 

About 40 minutes into the three and a half hour movie, Tony stretched slightly and then curled a little more against Steve’s side, head cushioned on a surprisingly comfortable, rock-hard thigh, drawing one leg up towards his waist, the other stretched out on the couch.

 

Clint, eyes drawn from the TV by the movement below him, watched as Tony turned a little further onto his stomach, the large black sweater the billionaire was all but drowned by, riding up a little, and exposing a strip of pale skin, illuminated spasmodically by the glow and ebb of the TV.

 

It was more than Clint could resist and his hand dove down with further mischievous intent, only to be caught firmly in an iron grip. Following the hand that encircled his wrist, to a huge bicep and massive shoulder, the archer turned questioning eyes to Steve’s steady gaze.

 

The Captain shook his head once and gesturing down at his boyfriend, quite clearly mouthed _‘asleep’._

Clint raised his eyebrows in surprise; though not at the fact that Tony was asleep, the man had likely been awake some ridiculous number of hours. Surprising was the fact that Tony had only ever fallen asleep at movie night once before, and he’d been doped high as a kite on the good stuff at the time. The first few months he’d never even fully relaxed, always seemingly on the edge of his seat, ready to spring up at a moment’s notice. 

 

It wasn’t a surprise, really, that any of the six had trust issues, not with their backgrounds and pasts, even Thor as the most settled and stable of the lot of them had issues to do with his standing as royalty and the kick in the head that had been his little brothers vicious betrayal.

 

Yet, as they had come together to form the team that was now the ‘ _Avenger’s’_ each had come to trust and rely on the others in ways they  hadn’t on anyone for a long time. It was a gradual formation, every test overcome used to cement the developing bonds.  Slowly a family of sorts had formed, and though dysfunctional and damaged at times, it was still _their_ family.

 

 

It was not unusual now, to find Natasha calming and comforting a green tinged Bruce after a nightmare, or for Thor and Steve to come together to commiserate and fix their ‘missing significant knowledge’ issues.  Once established, the connections were easy to foster and strengthen, and the team had come to know and trust that everyone of their _family_ would be at their side, their back or leading them, through any and every obstacle they encountered.

 

It was an incredibly heady feeling, the feeling of _safety_ and _love._

 

 

Tony however, was the slowest of the six to form the unbreakable bonds, and not because any of the team were unwilling, but because Tony was wary. His betrayals and suffering were different, not worse, but _deeper_ on some level.  While Clint, Steve, Natasha and Bruce had all be used and abused by outside means at some stage of their life, they hadn’t really had to face betrayal from _within_ their family.

 

For Tony, it had been his loved ones whom he hadn’t been able to trust.

 

Thor, admittedly, was possibly the closest to having experienced what Tony had, what with Loki being his much loved younger brother. Loki’s betrayal however, had been swift, overt and complete. Tony had suffered the drawn out, subtle and manipulative betrayal of his parents, with the devastation of Obadiah Stane forming the final extent of his mistrust.

 

While the other five wouldn’t trust an outsider as far as they could throw them, it was much harder for Tony to allow himself to form the connections within the team, always subconsciously expecting betrayal or rejection.

 

Gradually however, and with the subtle (and not so subtle) nudges of his _family_ , he was lowering his walls and letting them in.

 

It was the show of this trust tonight which had Clint pulling his hand back with a fond grin, Natasha lowering the volume of the movie a little, Thor quieting his thundering voice to a low roar and Bruce throwing an affectionately pleased look over his shoulder.

 

Steve ran a hand down Tony’s side, and tugged the sweater back into place, the tips of his fingers settling against warm skin under the hem of black material. As a quieter section of the movie gave way to the clashes and shouts of battle, the blond brushed the hair back off Tony’s face and settled his other hand over the upturned ear, effectively blocking, between palm and thigh, about 90% of the noise.

 

Feeling the slender fingers Tony had slipped beneath his thigh-pillow twitch questioningly, Steve caressed his own fingers gently against the warm skin at Tony’s waist in reassurance and smiled as his lover fell smoothly back into his light doze.

 

They finished the movie quietly, occasionally laughing and chattering at a dim murmur, popcorn scrabbling and crunching kept minimal. As Frodo and company set off for the Grey Haven’s and the credits began to role, the team began to slowly and quietly say good nights and get to their feet, silently leaving the room by the glow of the TV as JARVIS neglected to turn the lights on as was normal at the conclusion of movie night.

 

Natasha was there one moment and gone the next as was her want. Clint slid off the back of the sofa making nary a sound, nor a hint of jarring movement of the seat, nodding as he left.  Thor gathered up his popcorn and departed, followed by Bruce as the scientist rolled to his feet and simply padded away, until finally it was just Steve and Tony left in the room.

 

The TV switched off and the room was plunged into darkness. Steve didn’t bother trying to wake his boyfriend, knowing from previous experience that once Tony was asleep, after a 30+ waking stint, short of a world destroying catastrophe, he’d be almost impossible to fully awaken until he’d slept at least three whole hours.

 

Instead, he just eased himself forward and grinned as Tony huffed at the change and flipped himself over, latching onto Steve’s waist with one arm and nosing at his T shirt covered stomach, until he successfully burrowed beneath.

 

Steve bit his lip when _cute_ became _cold_ as Tony’s chilled nose snuffled against his bare stomach, followed by huffs of warm breath. Shaking his head and suppressing a shudder he stood slowly, easily lifting Tony with him, one arm wrapped around his upper back and shoulders and the other supporting behind his knees.

 

He adjusted his grip carefully and chuckled softly as Tony turned his face towards him, leaning into his chest, knowing if the genius was awake, he’d be demanding to be put down, or at least protesting petulantly.  

 

Steve enjoyed having Tony in his arms in almost any circumstance, but there was just something about _carrying_ Tony like this that left an almost unbearable contentment in his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was, the feeling of total trust he got from Tony, or the fact that his strength was worth something other than conflict or any other of a hundred reasons.

 

Steve was pretty sure that Tony was aware of how he felt, or at least had some level of comprehension, because despite his apparent dislike, he still allowed Steve his indulgence occasionally; although often with much grousing and more complaining.  It was the occasions like this one, where Tony was barely awake that made Steve wonder if he really hated it as much as he protested, considering how he tucked his head and all but _snuggled_ into Steve’s chest.

 

That thought made the smile drip off Steve’s face and he shamelessly pulled his smaller lover closer, silently raging against the suffering of Tony’s past if even the intimacy and dependence of simply being carried was enough to set off his ‘ _too close_ ’ warning.  The dark thoughts were dislodged by affection, when Tony, perhaps sensing his change in mood, murmured almost insensibly, the only recognisable word being ‘ _Steve_ ’. 

 

Smiling again, Steve turned and paced the distance to the door, moving easily into the hallway, when he suddenly realised how _dark_ it was. Despite knowing the tower well enough, the chances of stumbling across an abandoned quiver of arrows, a pair of boots, or heaven forbid _Mjǫlnir,_ were scarily high.

 

He knew he could ask JARVIS to light the way, but didn’t want to disturb the muted atmosphere, and so carefully balanced Tony between the wall, a leg and the arm at his back and used his other hand to gently fumble for the small silver zipper at the hollow of Tony’s throat, easing the quarter length zip down the full 15cm, flooding the hall with a soft blue glow as the arc-reactor peeked from the vee of the opening.

 

The familiarity of the radiance soothed him as he lifted Tony again, and wandered through the halls and up several levels, eventually slipping through their ‘JARVIS’ opened bedroom door.  

 

He settled Tony on the bed, chuckling when the smaller man murmured and felt for the soft coverlet, trying to tug it over himself, despite being spread out on top of it. 

 

“Cold?  Give me a second...” Steve spoke softly as he quickly stripped his off his own white T-shirt, leaving the dark grey sweatpants and reached for the hem of Tony’s sweater, tugging it up and deftly removing it, despite Tony’s swatting hands and grumbled objection.   Tony, obviously not appreciating the kiss of cool air against his naked skin latched on around Steve’s neck and curled into the heat of his larger body as the Captain snorted and working under difficulties, managed to both hold Tony and pull the blankets back from beneath him.

 

He eased them back down, not trying to pry Tony off, simply clambering over and curling around his smaller form from the other side. Reaching for the cover, he tugged it up and over them, running a large hand over goose-pimpled skin and the slippery green silk of Tony’s sleep pants.

 

Tony sighed at the warmth and scooted closer, Steve tugged him in and half under his larger body, and threw a leg over Tony’s thighs, his arm moving to cross the slender waist. Tony caught his hand and dragged it up to rest over the arc-reactor and then his body went limp and Steve knew he was instantly asleep.

 

 

 Pressing a kiss into sweet smelling hair, Steve closed his eyes and followed.

************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of 5&1 - chap 2 up tomorrow! *touch wood*
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this sweet little piece. 
> 
> Tomorrows chap is slightly more angsty - if that floats you're boat.


	3. To be Understood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve knows Tony....understands Tony.
> 
> If only Tony knew and understood that.

**2.**

**_Wednesday 12 th – 9:15pm_ **

 

Stepping out of the shower amidst a cloud of steam, Steve felt blindly behind himself for where his towel typically hung on the heated bar, only to encounter warm metal and nothing else. 

 

Waving a hand to clear the air and turning, the blond snorted as he noted the haphazard pile of sky blue cloth on the floor against the mirror. He grabbed Tony’s wine-red towel from where it still hung neatly on the bar and quickly tussled his hair and ran it over his torso before wrapping it securely around his waist.  He bent and retrieved the blue towel, folding the still damp material in half, before hanging it back over the bar.

 

He padded out into the bedroom, and swapped the towel for his dark blue sweats folded neatly at the bottom of the bed, noting Tony’s green silk draped over a nearby chair.  Returning to the bathroom, rubbing the cloth over his hair again as he went, Steve hung the towel beside its partner, where it belonged.

 

A glass of water later and he was flopping backwards onto the bed, noting the bedside clock’s subtle white digits proclaiming **9:20pm**.  Raking a gaze over Tony’s conspicuously empty expanse of bed to his left, he shook his head and turned to dig in the small, somewhat organised pile of books, CD’s and sketch materials on, beside and under his bedside table, finally settling on the thriller he had started earlier in the week.

 

He scrabbled half upright against the veritable mound of pillows of which most would find their way to the floor before morning, and settled back, flipping open to his marker and diving into the make believe fictional world spreading across the page in sprawling lines of matte black ink.

 

***

 

Two hours later he snapped the book closed, glancing again at the cover, memorising the author so he could hunt more works down; having gotten to the end without having predicted the outcome.  He gently dropped the paperback over the edge of the bed and leaned back in the soft nest, closing his eyes as sleep tugged at them. He didn’t require many hours, three or four at most when not injured, but he usually got them in the 11pm- 4am timeframe and his body clock was starting to signal that it was bedtime.

 

He yawned and glanced at the clock’s glowing **11:28pm,** and looking up at the soft off-white ceiling he asked, “JARVIS, is Tony in his workshop?”

 

The disembodied voice answered back immediately, “Yes. Is there something you require of Sir, Captain Rogers?”

 

Steve shook his head and started to answer negatively before abruptly changing his mind and replying, “Actually, can you patch it through so we can talk to each other, please.”

 

JARVIS’s answer of “Certainly” was followed by the fuzzing of white noise and then the room was filled by barely audible breathing and slightly louder muttering, interspersed by a soft _clink_ every few seconds.

 

Steve once again spoke to the ceiling, _“Tony?    Tony?  Are you there Tony?”_

 

He waited an instant for an answer, but none was forthcoming, so he sat upon the edge of the bed and tried again, a little louder “ _Tony!   Helloooo, Tony?_ ”

 

Again there was no reply, he asked questioningly, “JARVIS, are you sure he’s okay? Does he have music playing on his headphones?”

 

JARVIS replied with, “His vitals are all within an acceptable limits and no, Sir is not currently streaming any audio, perhaps he is just _...preoccupied?_ ”

 

Steve almost grinned at the likelihood of such a statement and switched tact, calling again, “ _Tony - if you don’t answer me in the next 30 seconds I’m going to set fire to myself..._ ”

 

The responding “ _Hmn-wha...Steve?_ ” was slightly confused and more than a little distracted.

 

 

The Captain grinning and settled back into his pillows, already replying, “ _He lives! He breathe’s!   What down there’s got your undivided attention, love?_ ”

 

Tony’s reply was a little stronger this time and Steve could hear the chagrined smile in his voice as he answered, “ _Just a new project_. S _orry, I guess I was kind of...focused.   Did you need something or did you just want to hear my dulcet tones?_ ”

 

Steve blushed as Tony’s voice dropped an octave on the last bit, coming across the open communication channel like honeyed velvet. Swallowing he replied, “ _Just wanting to see what time you were planning on coming to bed...._ ”

 

Tony, as Steve expected, had a cheeky and all too perceptive quip to impart, _“You’re blushing, aren’t you? I can practically feel it from here....”_

 

Steve groaned aloud and Tony just laughed as he continued, “ _I won’t be much longer, I just want to calibrate the base program, then I’ll be up, half an hour max...”_

 

Steve grinned and replied, “ _Half-an-hour then. Love you..._ ”

 

JARVIS cut the connection with Tony’s amused, “ _Love you too_ ” still reverberating in the air.

 

Steve padded to the bathroom, had a second glass of water and returned to bed to wait for Tony.

 

***

 

Steve lay still for an instant, not sure what had woken him, although the bright light and the fact that he was lacking blankets could have something to do with it. Realising he must have dozed for a moment while waiting for Tony he glanced at the clock and blanched at seeing **2:56am.**

Sitting up quickly he discarded the red silk pillow he had apparently been hugging to his chest and immediately noted that there was no Tony in the room and that his half hour had definitely passed; a sliver of concern drove into his heart and he asked, “JARVIS, where’s Tony?”

 

JARVIS’s answer of “Sir is in his workshop” had Steve shaking his head in displeasure. He was on his feet and out the door in seconds.

 

***

 

Entering the workshop, Steve found Tony half in his chair, half under... _something_. The genius’s hands were flying a mile a minute as he muttered to himself softly, a look of rapt concentration on his face, oblivious to the scrutiny.

 

Steve leaned against the doorframe and watched as Tony flitted about his work space, most of the energy contained to the far end of the workshop as he hurried from his _creation_ , over to the desk to tap away at his laptop for a moment and then to the work station to exchange _this_ tool for _that_ one.

 

Steve was enjoying just watching Tony in his element, unease settling slightly with Tony now in his sights and he was able to appreciate the unbridled enthusiasm and passion as the genius worked his particular brand of magic, completely immersed in his work.

 

Tony slipped a tiny screwdriver behind one ear and a spanner between his teeth, leaving a smear of grease across his cheek bone for good measure.  He shuffled back to his desk again, adding a few keystrokes and then clicked his mouse with a particular flair and exclaimed with excitement, as something obviously added up to his expectations.

 

He spun back towards the workbench, moving the spanner from his mouth to his hand as he went, passing the door and moving to drop the tool when he suddenly came to an abrupt stop as he realised that his ‘6’, blonde and built’ was leaning in the doorway.

 

Spanner still extended somewhat, Tony stared at him for an instant and then seemed to deflate, energy draining out of him as the smile fell and he confirmed quietly, “Uh, has it...  It’s been longer than 30 minutes, hasn’t it?” he flicked a little half guilty/half _something_ look Steve’s way as his gaze flitted around for a clock or timestamp.

 

Steve straightened and stepped into the room as he answered, “Well, a little... three and a half hours, give or take.”

 

Tony actually dropped the spanner in his stunned reaction, gasping, “ _Three and a ha- please_ tell meyou weren’t waiting for me for three and a half hours!”

 

Steve suppressed a snigger, but answered honestly as he began to stalk closer, “No. I fell asleep...”

 

Tony, eyeing his approach, shot Steve another little look that the super-soldier couldn’t quite decipher and dropped his gaze before he turned back towards his desk, reaching to distractedly shuffle a few sheets of paper as he spoke, “Oh. Okay. Sorry, we can - we can go now, I just have to...It’ll only take a minute - to save and set the...no, actually, I can do that later...”

 

Steve had drawn close enough by this stage to loom behind Tony’s turned form, and his eyes narrowed in consideration as he took in the fluttering hands and subtle way Tony was attempting to both ignore him and keep him in his peripheral vision. Steve was pretty good at reading people and getting _very_ good at reading Tony and he was picking up on agitation, distress and guilt.  It was mild, perhaps almost subliminal, but it was enough to set Steve’s teeth on edge.

 

He wanted the Tony from a moment ago, oblivious, absorbed and relaxed as he tinkered away with unbridled enthusiasm, he wanted confident, self-assured Tony, not this guarded, stilted Tony, seemingly upset with himself, yet strangely cautious of Steve. 

 

Ignoring the babble that still spilled from Tony’s lips, Steve wrapped his arms around the warm body before him, clasping his hands together at Tony’s waist and moved forwards to mould his body against Tony’s back as the genius abruptly fell silent.

 

Steve dropped his head onto Tony’s shoulder and murmured, “Take your time and do what you have to, no rush”, looking up slightly, he went on at normal volume, “JARVIS, can you please turn off anything that might go BOOM if unattended...”

 

 

When that didn’t even garner him a disgusted snort from his boyfriend, Steve added, “Seriously love, a few more minutes aren’t going to matter. Save your work, I’ll be just fine waiting right here...” he squeezed reassuringly and pressed his pleased smile to slightly salty skin as Tony huffed with laughter.

 

It seemed to work as Tony’s movements became sure and steady as he tapped away at the computer. Steve’s eyes followed with little comprehension for a moment as windows popped up, minimised, changed colours and beeped under Tony’s hands, but then he turned his attention to nosing at the sensitive skin behind Tony’s ear, happily sniggering at every tremble he felt shudder through the body in his arms. 

 

Finally the screen went blank and Tony turned in his arms to face him, coaxing him down into a warm kiss as his own hands found their way into Steve’s hair, gently tugging.  Breaking away a moment later, Tony smiled as he looked up into blue eyes and said, “I’d say we need to work on your patience, but I kind of like bored Steve.”

 

Steve grinned as he reached out to pluck the forgotten screwdriver from behind Tony’s ear, replying, “Well, what can I say, three and a half hours of missing you does terrible things to a man...”

 

The smile dripped off Tony’s face fast enough that Steve wondered if it had even been there.  Stunned by the sudden change, it took a few seconds for the new emotion in Tony’s eyes to register with Steve and Tony had already pulled away, saying “Yes, of course. JARVIS, lights out please...”, and  Steve could only follow as Tony swiftly disappeared out the door.

 

He followed the smaller man up the hall, contemplating. Tony was obviously feeling guilty about not coming up to bed earlier, like he’d said.  Sure, a little guilt might be warranted; but guilt that an apology and a kiss should have assuaged.

 

Not this heavy blanketed guilt, as if Tony had forgotten something really important, like an anniversary or birthday, instead of just having become immersed in his science, something Steve knew his lover was want to do.

 

No, Tony was guilty, upset and _wary._ Wary of Steve’s reaction. As if he thought Steve was _angry_ , rather than simply concerned with the hours his boyfriend kept. He wasn’t angry, not even disappointed; Steve knew Tony, knew how focused he got with his work. If anything, he was resigned, and if honest, more than a little amused and indulgent. After all, Tony’s complete adoration of anything technological was just one of the many things Steve loved about him.

 

It wasn’t the first time Tony had gotten engrossed in his work, nor the worst. Steve had gone three days once, without seeing hide or hair of his lover, so engulfed Tony had been. It made him wonder what it was about this situation that was distressing Tony so much, as if he though Steve was going to jump down his throat for telling him that he’d be half an hour and then getting absorbed in his work... _oh._

Well, _that_ could be it. It wasn’t like Steve had any other ideas.

 

Technically this time _was_ different, different in that it was the first time Tony had actually told him he’d be somewhere at a certain time and then hadn’t showed. It made Steve wonder why the slight technicality made a difference to Tony...it didn’t to him. He knew Tony’s personality; knew that the genius loved him. This whole situation wasn’t about Steve, it was about the science; Tony would have missed a meeting with the Queen of England if it had been scheduled in the last three hours.

 

It was a small matter to Steve, one he had already forgiven and, god willing, forgotten, but it was obvious Tony was dwelling on it...or on _something._

Steve knew that Tony dwelled like no one else; the man could do arrogant, conceited and selfish with a certain ‘Stark flair’, but Steve had learned that no one did guilt, self-loathing or shame like _Tony._

“Tony... ” , he called, hoping to nip this in the bud _now,_ before Tony worried himself into an ulcer, but the smaller man just turned the corner, as if he hadn’t heard Steve’s call from behind him.

It was possible, Steve supposed; he hadn’t spoken overly loudly, but then again, no one did _avoidance_ like Tony either.

 

Shaking his head, he hurried his pace and managed to slip between the doors of the elevator that seemed to linger open just an _instant_ longer than was normal, Steve made a note to thank JARVIS later.

 

The doors _snicked_ closed behind him and the slight shift indicated that the elevator was ascending. Steve turned to Tony, intent on hashing out whatever the issue was and froze as he took in his lover.

 

At 5’8 max, with a rather small, compact build, Tony wasn’t exactly the largest guy on the team, yet he always _filled_ the room wherever he went, the force of his personality somewhat overwhelming.  Now though, he just looked... _tiny_.  Leaning against the black wall, arms crossed defensively across his chest, and subsequently, the arc reactor, head tucked against his chest, gaze mulishly directed anywhere but at Steve.

 

Steve sighed, opening his mouth to speak, but stopped when he saw Tony’s stiffen at just the sound of him drawing breath. He stared, unable to believe that something that seemed so _trivial_ had ballooned into _this._

 

Well, he’d always been practical, hands on man.

 

He reached out, easily spanning the half meter space, and latched onto Tony’s wrist, using it to pull the smaller man’s resisting form towards him, tugging until Tony was close enough for Steve to use one finger to turn brown eyes up to meet his blue.

 

Steve felt him trying to pull away from the gentle grip, but he stilled as the blond started to speak, softly murmuring, “Tony-”, and then he’d fallen into silent horror as Tony _flinched._

It wasn’t the terrified recoil of someone expecting to be physically struck, but Steve could see that Tony thought he was about to be angrily reprimanded; that Steve was going to drag him over the coals emotion wise, and hang him out to dry.

 

And that Tony felt he _deserved_ it _._

Yanking Tony forwards, he cradled the smaller form to his chest, ignoring the small gasp the genius gave as he found himself engulfed by warmth; Steve spoke firmly, “You said you were coming to bed. You didn’t come to bed. I came and found you. It is not a big deal. I am not mad at you. “

 

A pause and Steve and raised a large hand to massage the base of Tony’s neck and continued softly, “Not at all”.

 

Silence again, and the hand slid from his skin to gently card through Tony’s tangled hair as he finished with, “Not even a bit”.

 

The smaller man didn’t say anything, didn’t move, didn’t even appear to be breathing and Steve deliberately jostled him slightly as he added insistently, “Understood?”

 

Nothing for a moment; Tony didn’t answer, didn’t look up, but then he wrapped his own arms around Steve’s waist and nodded his head with a thump against Steve’s chest.

 

The remainder of the short elevator ride was spent in silence, Steve running fingers through slightly damp-with-sweat hair, while he let Tony hide against his chest as the genius tried to come to terms with the difference between whatever angry reaction he’d been expecting and that which was _Steve._

The door sliding open alerted them to the fact that the elevator had arrived and, rather than just stand there the rest of the night, Steve squeezed again and then let go, not overly surprised when Tony fled the elevator and disappeared into their bedroom.

 

By the time Steve entered their room, the bathroom door was closed and the shower running, so he moved to dump most of the pillows to the floor and pull the covers back before getting into the bed, turning to stretch out on his back and wait.

 

Thirty-five minutes later, 20 minutes of _avoidance_ time by Tony’s usual showering standards and the door opened soundlessly and Tony padded naked into the room, snagging his sleep pants off the chair and allowing Steve to enjoy the sight as he turned to bend and pull them on.

 

He approached the bed and without a word, crawled across on all fours until he was settled on his stomach, sprawled half across Steve’s chest, his head turned sideways to rest over Steve’s heart.  

 

He lay there blinking slowly and drawing equations into Steve’s skin with his fingertips.  He didn’t say anything and Steve gently captured the wandering hand with his own, threading his fingers through the smaller ones and squeezing carefully.

 

Tony’s voice came out of nowhere, “You should be.” 

 

Steve blinked in confusion at the abrupt command and asked, “I should be what?”

 

Tony sighed, and pulled himself up onto his elbows, crossing his arms over Steve’s chest and resting his chin on them so he could see Steve’s face as he spoke, “Mad, angry, pissed, I don’t know, but not... _this._ ”

 

Steve raised an eyebrow as he replied, “You want me to be mad, rather than understanding?”

 

Shaking his head abruptly and dropping his forehead to his arms, concealing his face Tony answered, “NO! No, understanding is better, much better. I – I just don’t know why you aren’t upset. Anyone else, well...”

 

And that was the crux of the matter. At some stage in his past, someone, or a lot of someone’s, that Tony cared about had reacted negatively when they had inevitably been overshadowed by Tony’s work. Steve shook his head, thinking that he should have guessed that this whole scenario would stem from Tony’s past relationship experience. The billionaire for all his playboy ways hadn’t exactly been one for steady relationships, be they of a romantic, platonic or of a family nature; mainly because the few times he had tried, shit like this occurred.

 

Now that he had that sorted in his head, Steve just had to make Tony see. 

 

“Tony.   I know you, I understand you, as much as I understand anyone in this century...” he silently congratulated himself when Tony raised his head and cracked a smile.

 

Steve continued, “Remember, I knew who you were before we got together. I knew that you worked too much, drank too much coffee, had zero self preservation instinct, got snarky and irritable and about a million other kind, generous qualities...”

 

Steve pressed a kiss to their joined hands and finished, “I also knew that you had a one track mind when it came to your science and your technology. I knew they absorbed you, like not much else could, that it was something you understood and appreciated the beauty in, like not many people could, and I’ll never be upset with you because of that. I knew all of it, and fell in love with you because of it, not in spite of it...”

 

Tony blinked up at him, with wide brown eyes, as if he’d never quiteseen _Steve_ before, and a completely astonished smile appeared as he leaned up and pressed his lips to Steve’s, breathing warm and moist against his mouth, “No one... _no one,_ has ever, understood that.... _understood me,_ understood what it’s like, how it is for me, and _god I love you!_ ”

 

He fell silent and he was suddenly  kissing Steve; heavy and heated, and just a little wet, his tongue seeking entry, which Steve gladly gave and then he was coaxing Steve’s tongue back up into his own mouth.

 

He pulled back from Steve to add, a little breathless, “I need you to know though, that I don’t forget you. Even when I’m three day’s absorbed by the numbers and equations, I don’t forget you, you’re always there. Even if it’s just this little tiny _constant_ in the back of my mind, I _cannot_ forget you-” 

 

He fell silent as Steve moved to lean over him, large hands threading through dark hair as the blond spoke.

 

“Tony, it’s okay, I don’t need to compete with your work...” Steve caressed across smooth skin, framing large brown eyes with his thumbs as he continued, “I don’t care how much time you spend in your workshop or in the lab – I understand that your work is _you.”_ He paused then, raising an eyebrow as something occurred to him and he corrected with a pointed look, “As long as it doesn’t impact on your health _, I don’t care_ ”  

 

Steve kissed him again; able to see the astonished affection splashed across Tony’s face, and once again wondered how someone as special as Tony could have been so _misrepresented_ by the world.  He summed up his entire feeling on the matter at hand, softly adding, “I don’t care how long you spend doing what you enjoy, as long as when you finally do turn to _someone,_ that someone is _me._ ”

 

Tony blinked, reached up and tugged Steve down, mouthing ‘ _always_ ’against Steve’s lips.

 

This kiss was as heated as the last, but slowly gentled until it was barely more than a repeated press of lips on lips; it _was_ after **4am-** Tony hadn’t slept in almost 36 hours and Steve was, if not physically tired, then at least emotionally drained.

 

Tony moved his arms, the left down onto the mattress by their sides, tucking his finger tips under Steve’s hip and the right he curled under Steve’s shoulder and up into the coolness under the nearest pillow. His head turned to rest over Steve’s heart again, and he could hear the thump-thump-thump-thum...

 

Steve smiled softly as Tony relaxed into him, eyes blinking until they were barely open; a drowsy glazed brown gazing up at him warmly.

 

He pressed a kiss to soft hair and said quietly, “Roll onto your back, love...”

 

Tony replied with a mumbled, “...’m comf’t’ble here...”

 

Steve chuckled as he replied, “No you’re not, come on, rollover...”  He knew that Tony didn’t sleep on his stomach, and rarely on his side, because the arc-reactor made the position uncomfortable, if not painful, depending on the amount of time he spent in that position.

 

Despite this, Tony just sucked in a breath and huffed it at him, petulance obvious under the sleepiness.

 

Steve shrugged and physically moved Tony, easing the smaller man off his chest and turning him in his arms until his lover was on his back beside him. He grinned when Tony still managed to roll his eyes with quiet clear meaning, despite being mostly asleep.

 

He muttered something garbled and indistinct, but JARVIS obviously understood because the lights dimmed, leaving only the glow of the arc-reactor.

 

Tony grabbed Steve’s hand and tugged; intent clear. Steve smiled, dropped a kiss against soft lips, settled his hand over the arc reactor and moved closer, quite content to just lay there and watch his love sleep for the next few hours.

 

********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chap 2 for you!
> 
> No beta...hope you enjoy anyway.
> 
> Chap 3 soon (tomorrow?!)


	4. Falling Is Not Always Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything can 'fall' apart in instant.

**3.**

**_Saturday 18 th – 3:07am_ **

The bed rocked slightly, jostling Steve from sleep.  He sat up slowly and rubbed at his slowly adjusting eyes, a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table informed him that it was just after 3am. Turning to the cause of his sudden awakening he raised an eyebrow at his lover.

 

Tony was half out of bed, struggling not-so-quietly with the sheet that was tangled around his lower legs. Assuming that the sleep starved man needed the bathroom or a drink of water, Steve reached over, and with a deft tug, easily pulled the material free, grinning when Tony stumbled the rest of the way out of bed.

 

The blonds amused smile turned perplexed, when instead of heading to the bathroom or the kitchenette, Tony turned and padded out of their room, without so much as a glance in Steve’s direction.

Thoroughly confused, slightly curious and mildly concerned, Steve rolled out of the bed and pulled on a T-shirt, before following his bare-footed, bare-chested lover out the door and into the hall, just managing to glimpse the blue glow of the arc reactor as Tony entered the lift.  Steve hurried down the hall as he called, “Wait, Tony!” – but the doors slid closed and Tony was gone.

 

Jogging to the elevator Steve impatiently waited until it opened before him, Tony-free. Stepping in he asked, “JARVIS, can you take me to the floor Tony got off?”

 

The elevator whirred and Steve felt the decent start as JARVIS answered, “Sir is in the lobby on floor 72.” Steve raised an eyebrow; he’d been expecting the workshop or perhaps the gym...certainly not the main foyer of the personal section of ‘Stark Tower’. It opened directly onto the main kitchen and their most used common area and as such, was where most of the team entered and exited on a daily basis.

The elevator slowed to a stop, and the doors opened, but before Steve could step out, Tony stepped back in, arms full of... _shoes?_

 

Steve started to ask the most obvious question, “Tony, what on ear-”, when he caught the unfocused, glazed look on Tony’s face, as his lover stared straight _through him_.

 

Oh.

 

Things suddenly made a lot more sense.

 

Tony didn’t sleepwalk often, only three or four times in the 18 months they had been together, and when he did, the genius usually just padded down to his workshop and puttered around for a little while before turning and wandering back up to bed.

 

He’d thought about simply waking Tony whenever it happened; Bruce had assured him that while Tony might be disoriented when he woke, it wouldn’t actually do any harm to gently shake him awake.  However, there was just something so, innocent and relaxed about a sleeping Tony, that, if possible, Steve preferred to let him be.

 

Although it was sometimes very odd and often extremely amusing, Tony was always completely harmless when he sleep walked. Despite this benign behaviour, Steve always followed closely behind his oblivious love, too aware of the awful horror stories of the things that people had done while sleepwalking to take any such chance.

 

The thing with the shoes though, _that_ was new.

 

Looking at the armful of mismatching footwear, Steve could make out at least one of his own boots, something small and dainty that had to be Natasha’s, one of Thor’s rather _medieval_ leather boots, both the strange velvet-smooth sock things that Clint liked to wear in the vents and Steve was willing to bet that the battered Nike trainer was one Bruce’s.

 

The elevator stopped and the door opened, breaking Steve from his contemplation. He followed Tony as the smaller man exited the lift and wandered up the hall, coming to a stop before...yes, Natasha’s bedroom door.

 

Before Steve had a chance to stop him, Tony reached out and bashed on the door with Thor’s boot.

 

The door swung open instantly, as if the Black Widow had been lying in wait and for all Steve knew, she probably had.  Natasha appeared in the light of the arc-reactor, only slightly bed tousled, and wide awake, as if it wasn’t 3am in the morning and she hadn’t been awakened by Tony Stark bashing inelegantly on her door.

 

Her gaze was deadly as it swept over Tony and then narrowed in concentration, before turning to Steve with a raised eyebrow, obviously demanding an answer.

Steve murmured quietly, knowing Natasha would hear, “Sleepwalking. The shoes? Don’t ask me.”

 

Natasha looked at Tony again and smiled softly as the glazed eyes made sense, and she nodded once to Steve to let him know that she understood that Tony wasn’t accountable for anything he did in the next few minutes.

 

Tony, who had been staring somewhat awestruck at Natasha for the few seconds it took for Steve to explain, suddenly tilted his head to the side and gave her one of his most beatific smiles, nothing at all like _Tony Stark’s_ shark grin, but a soft, sweet curve of his lips, as he held out her flat ballet slipper from his pile, sitting it delicately in the centre of his palm, as if it were made from spun glass.

 

Natasha smiled back and took the shoe, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek - just because she could and it wouldn’t have to mean _anything_ at the moment.

 

Tony, still smiling the same _real_ smile, turned and slowly wandered off down the hall again.

 

Steve grinned his own thanks at Natasha, pleased that she had just accepted whatever it was Tony thought he was declaring. The Captain blushed when the small woman pulled him down for his own kiss to the cheek, portraying more with the simple gesture than with a mouthful of words.

 

Steve nodded, wished her good night and hurried down the hall after Tony.

 

***

He caught up just as Tony knocked on Thor’s bedroom door, and Steve wondered if he was going to have to step in, because at that point in time, Thor wasn’t even in the realm, let alone the building.

 

Tony knocked again, and his face fell, a sad little grimace pulling at his lips and Steve’s heart strings. Tony huffed a sigh and then leaned down and reverently set the boot in front of Thor’s door, going so far as to nudge it a little to the left, until he was satisfied.

 

Steve couldn’t keep the grin off his face, because it was just so _endearingly peculiar_ , he had no idea what, if any, thought was accompanying Tony’s actions, but still found it all adorably amusing.

 

The genius huffed again and patted Thor’s door, before straightening and padding further down the hall. Steve started to see a pattern when Tony trailed up the single flight of stairs at the end of the corridor and stopped in front of Clint’s room on the level above.

***

 

 

Of all the teams’ reactions, it was the mischievous archer, with his shit-eating grin and apparent love of tormenting Tony (although, that was a decidedly mutual affliction), that had Steve most concerned.

 

He didn’t want Tony to be jarred awake, disoriented and on guard, but couldn’t think of a way to warn Clint before Tony, this time employing Steve’s boot, bashed on the door.

 

A moment of silence and then the door opened and Clint stood in the opening, hair tousled and black sweats sitting low on his hips. Despite the bleary look he shot at them, the archer grinned and said with a nod to Steve, “Good Morning”, and a small grin at Tony, “...what have you got there, _Sleepyhead?”_

Steve instantly knew that Natasha must have comm’ed ahead and warned her fellow assassin, and Steve was thankful, because instead of causing a scene, Clint just graciously accepted the cloth shoes and bent, slipping them on his feet as he said, “Thanks Tony, I was wondering where these had got to...”

 

Tony grinned, patted Clint’s chest and wondered off.

 

Steve murmured a soft, “Thanks, Clint”, nodding at the replied, “Anytime” and followed his wayward lover.

***

 

Bruce’s door was met with Tony’s knuckles, now that he only had two shoes to wrangle and a soft thud, followed by a groggy, “Just a second...” forewarned the door opening and a half-awake Bruce stepping into the hallway.

 

“Ton-” the question died on his lips as he took in his fellow scientist and Bruce turned to Steve instead, “How long has this episode lasted?”

 

Steve, watching as Tony all but petted Bruce’s white trainer, answered, “About twenty minutes. He’s just...delivering shoes.” he added a shrug at Bruce’s raised eyebrow.

 

The sleepwalking had been a little strange at first, daunting to understand that Tony wasn’t in control and Steve had gone to Bruce for help. The other scientist hadn’t been overly concerned, but had agreed to watch the next episode; just to be sure he and Steve were on the same page.

 

Steve had been gratified by Bruce’s patience and gentle indulgence as they’d watched Tony flit around his workshop, apparently sorting his electrical connections by colour rather than the appropriate voltages.

 

It was the same affectionate amusement that emanated from the man now, despite being rudely awoken at three o’clock in the morning.

 

Bruce smiled softly when Tony finally appeared ready to give up his shoe, accepting the ‘gift’ as if it were gold or diamonds, rather than a tatty old trainer that he already owned.

 

Tony smiled a mega-watt grin, almost comically large across his face, patted Bruce on the top of the head like a much loved pet and then turned and padded off down the hallway, leaving Bruce and Steve staring after him in bemusement.

 

Bruce shook his head, and smiled at Steve, saying “You’d better get after him, knowing Tony; he’s likely to set the building on fire trying to disassemble the elevator or something... ”

 

Steve nodded his thanks and turned to follow Tony, but hid a grin when he noticed Bruce was absently petting his shoe as he returned to his room.

 

***

 

Steve went after Tony, but for all his loves slow ambling gait of the past 20 minutes, Tony seemed to have decided that time was suddenly of essence and the genius disappeared into the elevator before Steve could catch him.

 

The Captain called aloud, “JARVIS, can you hold the elevator!” as he hurried forwards.

 

JARVIS replied apologetically, “I am sorry Captain Rogers, but the elevator has already ascended. I shall return it momentarily.”

 

Steve paced impatiently in front of the elevator, unable to help the unbidden thoughts that ran through his mind, ‘ _Tony arriving at their room, only to not find him and panicking’, ‘Tony being startled awake by some sudden noise and being alone and disoriented’, ‘Tony actually attempting to disassemble the elevator’, ‘Tony..._

 

Steve’s thoughts were cut off by the arrival of the elevator and he rushed forward as the doors opened, already telling JARVIS to get him to where Tony got off, when he noted the addition to the shiny black floor of the elevator.

 

Tony, eyes closed and obviously properly asleep again, curled in a small ball.

 

Steve stared for an instant and then shook his head, stepping into the elevator as he instructed JARVIS to return them to the penthouse.  He bent and easily scooped Tony’s still form from the floor, moving to lean against the wall with his warm armful.

 

He readjusted his grip, pulling Tony higher in his arms until his lovers head lolled against his shoulder and Steve was strangely delighted to note the black boot that Tony had cradled possessively against his chest, partially blocking the glow of the arc-reactor.

 

The elevator stopped moving, the doors opened and Steve carried his precious burden into their room and deposited him gently back onto the bed.

 

And then he tried to take the boot, only to have Tony huff irritably at him.

 

The second attempt elicited an actual growl.

 

Steve snorted and murmured persuasively against Tony’s lips, “Tony...Give me the boot Tony, and you can have the real thing...”

 

Two seconds later the boot was happily discarded on the floor and Steve’s arm possessively cradled against the arc-reactor as he curled around Tony.

 

***

 

Steve hadn’t even managed to get back to sleep when Tony was suddenly moving, flinging the covers off and wordlessly sliding out of bed, moving towards the door again with the same purposeless saunter of his earlier sleeping escapade.

 

Steve glanced at the clock, _12 minutes_ , and pulled himself up, to once again follow. It was fairly typical on a night when Tony sleep-walked, to have multiple episodes, but it was unusual for them to occur so close together.

This time Steve didn’t have the added delay of locating and donning his shirt, so he was easily able to keep up with his wandering boyfriend.  The elevator, whether tuned to Tony’s subconscious or somehow being manually directed by the silent genius, let them out at the same entrance room as before and Steve hoped Tony wasn’t going to deliver the rest of the various piled shoes.

 

One interruption at 3am might be all their friends could handle.

 

He sighed in relief when Tony ignored the footwear and padded into the large kitchen.

 

Steve moved to sit on the edge of table in the centre of the room, kicking a chair out slightly and resting his right foot on the lower rung of the base, but not sitting in the actual chair in case he needed to be able to move fast should Tony suddenly require assistance.

 

He watched as his lover circled the room several times and then stopped besides where the coffee machine sat on the counter.  Steve was just trying to decide whether he should wake Tony or let him sleep-disassemble his ‘ _precious baby’_ when the decision was taken from him.

 

Completely ignoring the coffee machine, Tony bodily clambered onto the waist high counter and knelt, reaching up to open the wall cabinets.

 

The cabinets were well beyond Tony’s reach from the ground, and it was one of the reasons the scientist had listed as a bonus when they had started dating, _‘Steve being able to reach into the kitchen cabinets’,_ because coffee beans were important to his happiness – and stored on the top shelf of said cabinets.

 

Steve just watched now as Tony, perched in a rather undignified manner on the counter, began pulling out, one at a time, the 100 something boxes of various flavoured Poptarts.

 

Generally when Tony sleep walked he was silent, other than the occasional huff or click of his tongue, but upon rare occasion he also sleep talked and Steve grinned as he could just make out a few words of the running spiel that the man began muttering to himself.

 

_“Thor...no...Asgard S’masgard!...Home....Thor.....bait!... Poptarts....”_

Obviously sleepy-Tony was put out by the missing member of their team, and had devised away to lure him back.

 

Steve was still grinning when Tony grabbed the last box and balanced it at the top of his Mount Everest of Poptarts and looked it over, humming with approval as he slipped off the counter.

 

A few minor adjustments - Steve noted the way several of the boxes were flipped or turned so their most aesthetically pleasing sides were showing - and Tony nodded once, huffed a pleased breath and wandered over to the table, sinking down into the chair Steve was using as a foot rest and flopping his upper body over Steve’s conveniently placed thigh, once again asleep.

 

Steve, still chuckling at his lover’s strange logic, gently carded a large hand through the soft hair resting against his leg. He had wondered if Tony even knew Steve was present on these little jaunts, but the way the genius had just homed in on his boyfriend seemed to indicate that he was at least somewhat aware.

 

Looking at the veritable mountain of boxes, the blond contemplated putting them away, but decided he’d rather experience the complete and utter confusion come breakfast that morning.

 

For the second time that night, Steve lifted his sleeping  lover and carried him back to their bedroom, lay him on the bed and curled around him possessively, smiling when Tony sighed and turned into his hold.

 

***

Steve’s wandering hand registered the slight warmth of the empty side of the bed before his brain registered that it was actually that. Empty.

 

He looked at the clock and did the math between the glowing figures and the last time he had gotten Tony back into the bed and came up with just over an hour.

 

Yawning as he got to his feet, Steve guessed from the lingering warmth that Tony could have been gone more than ten minutes, and stretching he headed out the door and down the familiar path to the elevator.

 

Stepping inside the black cube he instructed aloud, “JARVIS, please take me to the floor Tony is currently on...”

 

JARVIS answered positively and the elevator began to move, Steve ran a hand through his hair as he tried to imagine what mischief his boyfriend was currently getting into.

 

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, but nothing could have prepared Steve for the sight of Tony – standing, windswept on the 92 story high balcony with his famous ironman walkthrough assembler, seemingly about to step off the edge.

 

In his sleep pants and _nothing else._

 Later, Steve couldn’t have said if he’d screamed, shouted or remained silent, but an instant later (and he couldn’t remember a time he’d more thankful for his Super--serum) he’d grabbed Tony’s wrist and dragged him backwards, knowing there would be bruises, but _unable to care._

 

They were still at the balcony’s edge, but Tony was no longer in danger of stepping off and Steve had his lover’s smaller form crushed against chest, face pressed to the dark hair, willing his heart to slow, telling himself over and over ‘ _He didn’t fall...he didn’t fall..._ ’

 

His adrenaline drained slowly as the rush of terror passed and Steve became aware that Tony was trembling in his grasp. Feeling gasping puffs of warm air against his chest, he looked down and took in the wide brown eyes, _seeing_ and knew that Tony was _awake._

He took in the huge glassy eyes and the chilled skin and managed to shuffle/carry them into the glassed common room, the very same that Tony had been thrown out of by Loki.

 

Tightening his arms around Tony’s shoulders and running a hand over skin that was cold to the touch, Steve reassured _himself_ that Tony was okay, as he waited for the disoriented man to become aware of exactly where he was and who had him.

 

Both which occurred in the same instant he became aware of what had _almost_ happened.

 

Steve felt Tony come to life in his arms, trembles giving way to shudders and gasps giving way to hyperventilation. He knew Tony wasn’t afraid of heights, and had fallen from higher than this without concern, but it was one thing in the heat of battle as _Ironman_ and another uncontrollably in his sleep when he was just _Tony._

Steve took control of the situation, despite the remnants of his own considerable terror, because he could see that Tony wasn’t going to be able to.

 

Bringing both hands up he gently cupped Tony’s face turning rapidly blinking chocolate brown eyes up to his own blue and spoke softly, “You’re okay, sweetheart, just breathe. I’ve got you.....”, he pressed his forehead to Tony’s, not breaking eye contact, as he continued, “That’s it, nice and slow. You’re fine, shhh....”

 

Thumbs gently swept a path through the salt trails as he kissed the slightly trembling lips below his. Tony wasn’t exactly crying, not consciously, but the shock and the fright were draining out of him and his eyes spilled over as he was overwhelmed by the emotional upset.

 

Tony was still shaking like a leaf in his arms, but he took a shuddering deep breath and tumultuously smiled up at Steve, returning the wet kiss and ducked his head, trying to get close enough to crawl into Steve’s skin.

 

Steve could feel the shivering under the shaking and murmured into Tony’s hair, “Are you ready to go back to bed?”

 

Tony nodded against his chest, but didn’t make any attempt to actually move and Steve added softly, “Can I - Can I carry you?”

 

It said a lot about his state of mind when Tony just nodded again and wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck as he was lifted and cradled against the strong chest, turning to press his face against the warm skin of Steve’s throat.

 

The whole way back to their rooms, Steve could feel every moist pass of Tony’s eyelashes against his skin, every half suppressed shudder. Each time sent echoes of fear through Steve’s own mind and he’d clutch Tony closer to him for a second, until finally, _finally_ he had them both back in their bedroom. Quickly stripping out of his shirt he settled under the covers, Tony still cradled to his chest as soft trembles bled out and dissipated through Steve’s own body.

 

Steve, _needing to do something¸_ wrapped gentle fingers around the delicate wrist he had grabbed earlier and carefully examined it in the soft lighting, able to make out already forming bruises, but affirming that was the extent of the damage. He felt a twitch of guilt, that Tony had been bruised _by his hand_ , but wouldn’t have been any more upset if he’d actually broken it, because it had been price enough to pay if it meant preventing Tony’s death.

 

He’d willingly pay almost any price to ensure Tony couldn’t be hurt.

Tony, ever perceptive, must have been following his thoughts, because it was in that moment he said aloud, “JARVIS – disable my bio-signature access for this door for the rest of tonight, and do the same any night that Steve asks it of you...”

 

He paused for a beat and Steve pressed a relieved kiss to Tony’s lips before the genius added, “Only allow me access on those nights if Steve’s Vital Signs fall below normal, and in that event, inform the rest of the team.... ”

 

JARVIS answered positively and the electronics at the door flashed arc-reactor blue for an instant before fading again.

 

They fell silent, and Steve tucked their clasped hand carefully into the blanketed warmth, breathing in the scent that was _them._

 

Only after several moments of engulfing warmth and comforting _presence_ did Steve feel the trembling slowly ease and then finally stop and Tony melt against him, relaxing into a seemingly boneless puddle.  It was only then that Steve completely relaxed as well, wrapping a heavy leg over Tony’s thighs and an arm over his waist, hand trailing up to loosely open over the arc-reactor’s glow.

 

Effectively pinned half beneath him, he felt Tony slip into sleep.

 

_Alive_

 

_Safe._

_Protected._

_********_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chap 3 for you! Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> Please comment and keep an eye out for more tomorrow night!
> 
> I don't use a beta - it's just me, and while I do the best I can, mistakes inevitably escape my notice...so please, if you happen to notice a glaring spelling or grammatical error - let me know. Thanks.
> 
> 01/08/13 - Tiny spelling error edit


	5. Sometimes Knowing is Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony just wants what he wants. Steve just wants to give it to him.

**4**.

**Friday 19 th – 8:52pm**

 

The door slid closed behind him and Steve let his public persona fall, tense shoulders relaxing as he leant against the glossy black wall of the elevator, _Steve Rogers_ replacing _Captain America._

He’d been at SHIELD headquarters since a little after 6 that morning, after he’d, or rather, _Captain America,_ had agreed to assist in an on-base ‘Decorum and Ethics’ training exercise for the newest batch of recruits

 

Apparently good old-fashioned manners now had to be taught at career level. It had been a long, tedious exercise in what Steve had previously assumed was mostly common sense. Now, finally finished and free, all Steve wanted to do was get home, join his _family_ for their mostly-regular movie night and then curl comfortingly around his injured lover and go to sleep.

 

Tony had still been asleep when he’d left that morning, mostly due to the strong painkillers he was on, and Steve, who’d held him gently as Tony had fussed restlessly for hours before finally falling asleep, hadn’t had the heart to wake him, and so he’d contented himself with just a quick kiss and a whispered, “Love you.”, before leaving.

 

The elevator slowed to a stop and opened onto the main entrance of the personal levels of ‘Stark Tower’, also known as the ‘Avenger’s Family Home’.  He toed of his boots, adding them to the pile of mismatched footwear and shucked off his jacket, hanging it above them.

 

Padding down the hall in his socked feet, he was able to make out the soft buzz of the TV and the murmur of voices as he approached their main living area. It was a little before 9pm, and Steve knew the others would already be a good way through their planned ‘Lethal Weapon’ marathon, but he didn’t really care. It was the companionship and the closeness that he enjoyed; the few hours on a Friday evening when nothing and no one mattered beyond the four walls of the living room.

 

The door was open, and he stepped through, stopping to lean against the frame as he observed his team.

 

From his position in the doorway he could just make out each team member in the muted light of the TV.

 

Shadows cast over Bruce’s still profile, where the scientist sat at the closest end of the long sofa.

 

Thor was stretched out on the floor, massive arms torturing the life from a throw cushion as he squeezed it under his head.  

 

Natasha, instinctively aware of the new presence, gave him a soft smile but didn’t say anything.

 

Clint looked over from his pillowed perch on the wide bench window sill and threw him a small wave as he greeted softly, “Hey Cap, back in one piece?”

 

Steve answered the archer with a nod and a smile as he made his way over to stand behind the single seat recliner, from where he could just make out Tony’s blanket draped legs coming from, settled on a pillow that rested on the low coffee table. 

 

Normally Tony would be stretched out along the full length of the three seater sofa, draped over anyone else who chose to venture onto it, usually being Steve.

 

The 6 inch gash and 18 stitches across the back of his right thigh, just above the knee, that sent shooting agony through his body with every touch, made it all but impossible to lie on his back, and the arc reactor made it almost as uncomfortable to lie on his stomach.  The appropriate painkillers had been deemed (by Tony, of course) as too strong, in that they pretty much completely knocked him out, and the next best offer only took the edge off and the effects didn’t last long enough between allowable doses.

 

Naturally, Tony had been utterly wretched for the past few days.

***

 

Steve leant over the back of the couch, and his suspicion, caused by the soft volume and general quietness were confirmed by the sight of closed eyes in the still, drawn face as Tony slept fitfully under the influence of obvious pain.

 

Steve gazed down with concern for a few minutes, taking in the sheen of sweat and pale skin, but chose not to wake his drained lover after Natasha whispered that Tony had only fallen asleep about 15 minutes ago.

 

Steve moved over to the sofa, sinking down onto the end opposite Bruce and tried to relax into the quiet atmosphere. However, for his every attempt to pay attention to the movie he found his gaze lingering on Tony instead.

 

It wouldn’t have been five minutes after he sat down that Tony moved slightly, stifled a drawn out whimper and seemed to be lingering between dropping back off and starting to stir. Steve waited silently, hoping that his exhausted and unwell love would resettle and fall back into sleep, but drooping eyelids slowly opened to reveal glazed brown eyes.

 

Tony, not yet 100% aware, yawned as his tired gaze darted, mostly unseeing, around the room, body language all but radiating inconsolable misery.  Then brown eyes found blue and widened, badly concealed fragility ghosting across his expression.

 

Before Steve could get a word out, Tony was already on his feet, discarding his blanket as he began to limp across the short expanse, a soft gasp escaping on every step, despite his clenched teeth.

 

The blond moved to get up, but Tony whined such a pathetically weak disapproval that Steve stopped and reluctantly waited, only relaxing slightly when his injured love hobbled close enough for him to catch should Tony fall.  As soon as he was within Steve’s personal space, Tony all but _crawled_ into his lap, curling against his warm chest and ducking his head under Steve’s jaw.

 

Steve, able to feel the tangible _longing,_ pulled him closer, carefully cradling the smaller body so that his injured leg was not at risk of brushing against anything. He heard the barely audible sigh of utter relief as Tony melted into the strong embrace.

 

A deep breath of welcome air; fresh, with the scent of _home_ and a lingering hint of _Tony,_ and Steve sighed as tension that he hadn’t even realized he was feeling seeped out of his very bones.   Relaxing contentedly, he slid lower and he shifted slightly on the sofa.  He felt Tony’s breath hitch anxiously against his shoulder, and stilled immediately, reassuringly tightened his embrace when two hands came up to twist in the thin white material of Steve’s T-shirt.

 

“It’s okay; I’m not going anywhere....”, the blond assured, whisper soft and Tony slackened against him; his hands un-fisting to rest flat against Steve’s chest.

 

 Steve could feel several of his team mates flicking them fondly indulgent glances every few seconds but ignored them in favour of gently teasing his unusually clingy lover, asking with a gentle grin, “ Missed me, huh?”.

 

Tony, the master of independent self-reliance, just butted his head lightly against Steve’s chest and hummed in obvious agreement, for once not bothering or able to mask the _need._

Steve felt a wash of emotion sweep through him; Intense, all-consuming love for everything he was cradling, slightly disbelieving astonishment that Tony was _his,_ pleasant surprise at the declaration of need, concern over Tony’s uncharacteristically dependent behaviour and a speck of - not _guilt_ per se _,_ but slight upset that he’d had to leave his obviously unsettled love.

 

Nosing the tangled locks of slightly damp hair aside, Steve pressed his lips to skin, absently noting the unnatural warmth that seemed to smoulder beneath the surface, and wondering how long his love had been running a fever.  He tilted the Tony’s head back with both hands, taking in the glassy brown eyes, pale skin, flushed cheeks and slight sheen of sweat and knew that the insecure dependence that was currently curled into him was mostly a result, or at least _revealed_ by discomfort and fever.

 

The captain was broken from his concerned musings when one dark eyebrow rose into an elegant curve, practically screaming ‘ _Like what you see?_ ’ and Steve snorted as he dropped a kiss on twitching lips. Even sick, injured, tired and emotional, Tony Stark could still snark.

 

Tony sank back down to rest against Steve’s chest, the blond watching as the dark head moved a few times, finally stilling where Steve knew his heartbeat would be loudest.  

 

Crossing his arms securely around Tony’s waist, Steve turned his attention to the TV and the rest of the room in general. He had no idea what was happing as far as the movie was concerned, but the rest of his team appeared relaxed and content, if a little sentimental, from the indulgently sappy looks they were still receiving.

 

He declined Bruce’s offer of the popcorn bowl with a shake of his head and a smile, more out of a disinclination to release his warm armful than not wanting the snack. He felt a minute shift against his stomach and glanced down, just catching Tony’s pained expression as he resettled, and it was obvious that his leg was causing him pain.

 

Steve fully expected Tony to fall back to sleep, now that he was as comfortable as he was going to get, but each glance down showed slowly blinking eyes that stared at nothing, half-hidden grimaces and the occasional restless fluttering of hands against his chest.   

 

He’d given up watching the movie, Tony’s discomfort more than he could even attempt to ignore. Instead, he split his attention between Tony and the rest of the team, quite rightly positive that his desire to be able to do _something_ to ease his loves distress was blatantly palpable.

 

The slight tremble as it travelled through the smaller body was easily felt, and Tony whimpered as he jostled his leg trying to curl closer to his heat source. Steve hugged tighter, running large warm hands over the thin material of the SHIELD embossed sweatshirt, unfolding the too long sleeves to cover Tony’s forearms, and most of his hands; knowing that although his love was actually overly warm, the air would feel cold.

 

The internal temperature was already set as high as they dared, all of them knowing better than to try and burn a fever; Tony felt cold, but warming him up would only make his temperature climb.  Steve gritted his teeth helplessly as another bout of chills set trembles through his lover and hugged closer, pulling Tony higher against his chest.

 

The Captain glanced up, distracted by approaching movement as Clint tucked the light-grade material of the previously discarded blanket around Steve’s upper arms, covering Tony’s shivering back, the rest of the cloth pooling onto the floor near Steve’s feet. Tony, blanketed from neck to thigh, sighed as his fevered body automatically decided it was warmer, even though there was no actual change to his temperature.

 

Steve felt himself relax as Tony settled his forehead against the curve of his collarbone, humming in appreciation at the cool feel against his warm skin, despite the fact that Steve normally ran at a slightly higher body temperature. Steve looked over at Clint with a smile of relieved gratitude and a softly spoke his thanks.

 

Clint shrugged, pleased he’d been able to help, and turned back to the movie, allowing Steve to turn his attention to Tony again. 

 

Despite the blanket, he still shivered and Steve could already feel his own skin slicking with sweat from the close contact with Tony’s too hot body. He couldn’t see Tony’s face anymore, but felt the occasional sweep of eyelashes and the puff of too hot breath against his throat. Pale skin had turned a sickly grey and Steve caught the bitten back whimpers of pain in every tiny movement.

 

Uncomfortable, distressed and ill; Tony looked completely and utterly miserable.

 

It was damn near breaking Steve’s heart.

 

“Tony, do you want me to take you to bed?” he asked softly and flicked a look at Clint, knowing how much _sheer willpower_ the archer would have to find to not come back with some smart comment. Thankfully Hawkeye prevailed in this instance and remained silent.

 

Tony pulled back slightly, directing darkly circled eyes up to his, and despite obviously wanting nothing more, his gaze flicked to the TV, the others and then back to Steve, before he shook his head and dropped it back to Steve’s shoulder.

 

Steve raised an eyebrow; surely Tony wasn’t interested in watching the movie, not feeling as absolutely dismal as he so clearly was. It wasn’t as if the movie was anything particularly special, it wasn’t even a favourite of Tony’s; it was one Steve had professed an interest in seeing.

 

_Right._

 

“We can watch the movies another night. Come on love, bed for you.....” he said firmly, and bodily lifted Tony from his lap, discarding the blanket on the sofa and gently setting him on his feet, silently supporting his injured right side as Tony choked back a pained gasp, biting his lip as he dug his fingers into Steve’s arm.

 

“Night guys. No monsters, aliens or invasions over the weekend please...” Steve asked, drawing the team’s attention to him as he helped Tony limp out of the room. Steve wanted nothing more than to get him up and off that injured leg, but the mulish look Tony threw him the one time he’d so much as twitched closer had the Captain holding back.

 

They left the room, shuffling into the hallway amidst laughing goodnights and promises of no violence, softly shutting the door behind them.

 

As soon as the door was closed and they were alone, Tony leaned heavily into Steve’s side, turning to hide his face as he swayed alarmingly, soft expletives and gasping whimpers escaping his pursed lips.  Steve just shook his head at the stubbornness and gently pulled Tony around in front of him.

 

Bending slightly he locked his arms across the back of Tony’s legs, high, where thigh meets buttock and stood, lifting the smaller figure until Tony was settled at his waist, left leg hooked behind him and the injured right gently dangling. 

Tony groused, but leant forward to wrap his arms around Steve’s neck, shifting his weight and making it easier for Steve to hoist him higher.

 

Normally (when Tony was unconscious or asleep) Steve would just swing him up bridal style, but with the wound and stitches to the back of Tony’s leg, it wasn’t exactly a viable option.  Their current position was comfortable and secure, but more generally used for young children, a fact of which Tony was obviously aware as he added words to his grumbling complaint.

 

“This is so... _humiliating._ I’m not a 4 year old!” he huffed cantankerously against Steve’s ear, sounding all the world like his denied age.

 

Steve hid his grin as he turned his head, caressing a large hand up over the back of Tony’s sweatpants, gently squeezing a handful of the deliciously rounded ass, murmuring “ _I Know._ ”, against soft lips before catching them in a slow kiss.

 

Tony gasped and then relaxed tiredly into his arms, replying, “Well, w _hen you put it like that..._ ”

 

Steve gave another gentle squeeze to accompany his slightly smug smirk.

 

***

 

It took a little longer for them to reach their bedroom, mostly due to Steve insisting they stop whenever Tony gasped as his leg was jarred and one instance when they brushed against the elevator door and Tony’s vision had all but white out, before returning abruptly, leaving him shaking and gasping in Steve’s arms.

 

Eventually though, they reached their room and Steve carefully set Tony on his feet beside the bed.

 

“Don’t move, just hold onto my shoulders and let me...” Steve instructed quietly, able to see that Tony was on borrowed time and needed to get off his leg.

 

Tony shivered as Steve divested him of his sweatshirt, dragging it up and over his head, large hands dropping the material on the floor and moving to settle solidly against slender hips as Tony wobbled, off balance. The warmth radiating off Tony’s torso alarmed him, and Steve was sure his temperature had risen since he’d gotten home. 

 

Pale, flushed skin, sweat slicked and clammy troubled him further and decision made he pulled a chair closer for Tony to lean on and ducked into their bathroom, returning swiftly from his easily completed mission.

 

Tony raised that eyebrow again once he saw what Steve had in his hand, saying pointedly, “You could just ask JARVIS, he-”

 

Steve slipped the cool metal of the thermometer into Tony’s open mouth and tapped it closed, leaning in to kiss the appalled look from his boyfriends face as he answered, “ _I know._ ”

 

Tony huffed around the thermometer, but allowed Steve the comfort of his old fashioned methods, waiting semi-patiently and semi-quietly until the small _beep_ sounded and Steve retrieved his device, looking down at the small screen with a frown.

 

“102.2.  JARVIS, if Tony’s temperature gets to 103 degrees, please inform me.”

 

JARVIS answering “Certainly, Captain Rogers” was decidedly cheerful.

 

Steve moved to Tony’s side again and asked, “Does the dressing need changing?” as he very carefully peeled the sweatpants down first the left leg and then even more carefully, the right.

 

Naked, except for the startling contrast of the white bandage, Tony shivered and leant into Steve’s warmth, answering, “No – Bruce did it at lunch...” he shuddered and Steve inferred that it had hurt, _a lot_.

 

Pressing a kiss to a bare shoulder, Steve helped Tony into the bed, settling him on his back, light blanket pulled to his waist, with a huge padded pillow raising his leg high enough that the wound didn’t touch the mattress.

 

Steve moved to pick up the discarded clothes, folding them over a nearby chair, aware of Tony’s soft brown gaze following his every movement.  The blond finally stopped his ‘organising’ and padded back over to the bedside, leaning over Tony, one arm propping him up on either side of Tony’s shoulders, so they could look eye to eye as he asked, “I bet you haven’t eaten, are you hungry?”

 

Tony, looked over Steve’s shoulder, focussing on the wall as he shook his head, with a soft “No.”

 

Steve tried again, adding persuasively, “I could have soup sen...”

 

Tony shook his head and swallowed hard, snapping more adamantly, “No!”

 

Standing back a little, Steve raised a disapproving eyebrow at the sharp tone, radiating mild hurt and Tony swallowed again, immediately softening as he apologised, “Sorry. I’m just...I don’t feel-” he shook his head, frustrated and fisted the blanket under his hand as his eyes danced away and he swallowed again.

 

Steve gazed down at him, taking in the dry swallowing; the pale, flushed skin and sank down beside him, freeing the blanket from Tony’s hand and clasping it with one of his own as he confirmed, “You feel sick to the stomach.”

 

Tony shrugged before nodding, and Steve sighed at his lover’s stubborn self dependence as he scolded gently, “And you planned on telling me when?”, already knowing the answer.

 

Tony just shrugged again, but smiled up at him when Steve’s other hand moved to sit warm and gentle on his stomach, heavy and comforting against the tender muscles. 

 

Steve smiled back despite the exasperation, and said, “It’s probably from the pain meds, just promise me you’ll eat in the morning.”

 

Tony nodded his agreement and then immediately stopped nodding as he groaned, and that was enough for Steve who said, “Okay love, I think you need some sleep. Is there anything else I can get you?”

                                                                         

Tony just reached out his hands, grasping at his lover, meaning obvious and Steve snorted as he leaned down for a kiss, saying, “I’m just going to shower – I’ll only be a few minutes. Go to sleep, love.”

 

Tony sighed petulantly but made shooing motions as he settled back into the sheets and Steve kissed him again, saying aloud, “Lights out”, before moving into the bathroom.

 

***

Steve, clean, dry and dressed, exited the bathroom 10 minutes later and wandered into the bedroom, quietly downing a glass of water and padding softly to his side of the bed and sliding in a carefully as he could, not wanting to jostle the bed and wake his ill lover.

 

Settling on his side, facing Tony in the much dulled glow of the lightly covered arc-reactor, Steve made sure that he was far enough away that he wouldn’t accidentally bump Tony’s leg.

 

He didn’t jump when a hand suddenly threaded through his hair, but it was a close thing. Looking up he caught the tiny sliver of gleaming brown as Tony’s hand wandered further down and tugged with weak insistence on his shoulder.

 

Steve acquiesced, sliding closer as he spoke quietly, “Thought you’d be asleep...”

 

Tony didn’t answer for a second, just stared at the blue illumination that danced off ‘ _all that was Steve’,_ white shirt, creamy skin, blond hair and blue eyes all radiant in the muted light.

 

He sighed and closed his eyes, as if the darkness would give him strength and muttered, almost too low for Steve to hear, “I can’t. I’ve been trying _all day,_ it just...it _hurts,_ and I’m so tired – and I _– I just wanted..._ you.” he trailed off as the walls he’d carefully erected and had been shoring up all day, cracked and started to crumble, in the dark and _safe_ with only _Steve._

 

A soft _not-_ sob broke free, catching and tearing and Steve was around him, arms cradling and soothing, lips caressing heated skin as Tony breathed deeply, fighting for control that his fevered, pained, tired body was physically demanding he let his shattered emotions win.

 

He was fine until Steve breathed a sigh of ‘ _longing, regret, ache, remorse’_ into his mouth and then the walls shattered like so much glass.  

 

Steve soothed the stinging paths that salt travelled on his too hot cheeks, gently bathing them with wet and warmth. Soft murmuring of nothing was whispered against his ear and hands, large and practical, cradled ‘ _pain_ ’ and ‘ _ill’_ with infinite care and sensitivity.

 

Steve gently rocked him, as the loneliness and longing fled for emptier territory than his heart, and he settled, drained but _so home_ against Steve’s chest, he looked up, and seeing the same mirrored back, couldn’t bring himself to feel shame, embarrassment or anything but love.

 

Tony, trying so desperately not to break the atmosphere, shifted gently and white hot pain flared, he wasn’t able to bite back the guttural whimper of screaming pain, and his vision blanked again.

 

His eyesight returned and Tony let out a wet chuckle, sagging against Steve as he said, “Well, that was stupid. _S_ _o_ not my brightest moment.”

 

The blond, carefully not moving, answered, “Hey, hey -Tony. It wasn’t stupid, just an accident. You’re leg?”

 

Tony sighed scornfully answering, “Yes, it’s brushing against your knee I think. And it was stupid, I know how it’s going to feel when I touch it, doesn’t stop me doing it... ”

 

Steve, using his incredible upper body strength, lifted Tony completely from the bed, and settled his lover beside him, positioned on his stomach, mound of pillows cushioning the arc reactor, completely squelching the light.

 

Steve ran a hand down his Tony’s back as he said, “Is that okay for a little while, the reactor? And still not stupid, if you want to talk stupid, how about the certified genius who gashes his leg open while working in his lab, proceeds to bleed half to death, finally gets stitched up _and doesn’t bother to tell his partner..._ ”

 

Tony cringed, ducking his head as he replied, “ _Stee-ve,_ I  - I know, I said I’m sorry, and an idiot and that I won’t do it again. I _am_ sorry, but please - ” he paused, swallowing as he raised pleading eyes to Steve’s, finishing, “ _Please –_ I feel like _crap_ and I’m too hot and too cold and I kinda want to throw up, and everything _hurts!_ And I _missed_ you...please?”

 

Steve sighed, pressed a kiss to pleading lips and answered, “I know that, sweetheart, I know.”

 

Tony returned the kiss as he added softly, “...and I _told_ you I’m stupid...”

 

Steve had to chuckle, shaking his head as he questioned softly, “The arc-reactor?  And is there anything I can do to help?”

 

Tony sighed as he answered, handing coming to rest on Steve’s chest, “I’ll be fine like this for a few hours, and Love, you’re already doing everything...” he paused and then continued, “...actually...”

 

Steve encouraged him, sitting up slightly, “Anything...”

 

Tony patted his hand over Steve’s chest and said with a cheeky lilt to his tired voice, “Strip?”

 

Steve snorted, but without a word he pulled himself from the bed and complied, stripping his t-shirt and shorts, before he cuddled back in against Tony’s pillow ridden form, careful of his leg.

 

“Not that I’m opposed, but I’m assuming you have a reason for wanting me naked?”

 

He heard the grin in Tony’s voice as his lover answered, “I always want you naked, but you’re right, I do have an ulterior motive. Naked you is warmer you.”

Steve smiled through his concern as he said, “Cold again, love?” and moved to snuggle in against Tony’s side, searching in the dark and pulling the sheet up to cover the pale back, wanting to stop the already returning shivers.

Tony hummed his agreement and sighed, _so tired._

 

“Close your eyes and go to sleep, love” the blond instructed, his arm a warm band across the small of Tony’s back.

 

Tony, for once doing as he was told, closed his eyes as he tried his best to ignore the constant fiery pain that engulfed his upper leg.

 

Steve lay still, hoping that Tony would drop off, but several minutes of soft breathing, interspersed with quiet gasps and the occasional hitch in breathing showed that his lover wasn’t able to get past the pain.

 

He rolled back up onto his elbow, hand creating a warm spot on Tony’s back as he asked, “How long until you can take your pain medication?” He thought about asking if Tony would take something stronger, but knew the same argument as twice previous would be the only result.

 

Tony sighed as he shook his head, “Not for another three or so hours, its okay, I can put up with it...”

 

Steve let out a frustrated snort at the obvious two faced answer; Tony only put up with it because he couldn’t get to sleep to escape it.

 

Steve bit his lip, considering and then said, “Don’t move....”and reached out.

 

Tony’s “Wha-!” was cut off by a high pitched, breathy yelp and Steve pulled his hand back immediately, urgently saying “God, I’m sorry Tony. I thought it might take your mind off yo-”

 

Tony cut in, “What was- That was, god– _don’t stop!_ ”

 

Steve grinned in relief and reached back over, gently touching with air light finger tips, in barely there caresses.

 

Tony moaned low and breathy and all but whimpered as Steve’s feather light finger tips trailed along the length of the white bandage, igniting a barely there flutter of _not_ -pain, completely decimating the hot white fire of the actual wound.

 

Steve slowed his strokes, paying the utmost attention to keeping the touch as light as he possibly could without it being no touch at all and felt, within moments, Tony softened into a puddle of sleeping genius, breathing shallowly through his open mouth, skin pale, flushed and shining with sweat, dark bags under his eyes and completely and utterly gorgeous.

 

Steve contented himself with three hours of soothing Tony and couldn’t have been more satisfied to spend his time doing anything else.

 

Because, despite his remorse at having not been there during the day, when he had been needed, Steve was here _now_ and it was obviously exactly where Tony wanted him, and so that was enough.

 

*******


	6. Pushing and Pulling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The harder Tony pushes, the tighter Steve grips.

**5.**

**Wednesday 11 th – **

Tony’s snapped up from where he was seated, hunched over the workbench, turning to the beeping door, a dark glare firmly in place across his expressive face. The genius opened his mouth to order JARVIS to disregard the access code being entered, but was too slow.

 

The door started to slide open, allowing Clint to pass all but silently into the lab, already speaking, “Hey Tony, where– holy shit!” the hawk’s question was cut off with a shocked exclamation, as he took in the obvious damage, whistling through his teeth in morbid astonishment.

 

Before the archer could even open his mouth to make some smart comment, Tony was on his feet, a heated glower accompanying his snarled, _“Get out.”_

 

Clint turned to look at Tony, taken aback by the clear antagonism in the genius’s voice. A sweeping head to toe glance, and Clint, in his own unique way of showing concern said, “Whoa... Way to make a mess, Ironass!  Anyone die?”

 

Tony’s hands fisted at his sides, and he stepped towards the unwelcome interloper, repeating his earlier command, but with more fervour, all but roaring, _“Get Out!”_

 

Clint gaped for an instant at his usually sociable, if somewhat infuriating friend. His own mild resentment of the unmerited behaviour was easily overshadowed by concern and he moved to ask straight up if Tony was alright, but he’d no more than taken a step forward and opened his mouth, when Tony’s brown eyes shadowed with real anger, spittle flying as he yelled, “GET THE HELL OUT!!”   

 

Sure he was about to be physically attacked by an armour-less Ironman, and finding the thought strangely daunting, Clint saluted smartly and hightailed it.

 

*******

The three hour trance was reluctant to release her peaceful mind, and Natasha was equally reluctant to leave, but the instinctual ‘ _knowing’_ that she was no longer alone pulled her from the depths anyway.

 

Looking up from her lotus position on the firm fall-safe floor of the upper level gymnasium, Natasha cracked an eye open to see Clint folding himself down opposite, his hands coming to rest on his knees in the typical ‘meditation’ position, despite the archer making no effort to actually mediate.

 

He eyed her serene relaxed form with the same indulgent scorn as he usually did, and Natasha rolled her eye closed again, well aware of her friend’s contrary feelings on the usefulness of mediative trances.

 

She allowed herself to slip back into a light concentration trance, knowing that when Clint was ready, he would speak – and not before.

 

Sure enough, and no doubt timed perfectly to coincide with just when she reached her ‘centre’, Clint asked, “Have you seen Tony yet, today?”

 

_Of course Stark would be involved._

She shook her head negatively, not bothering to open her eyes or acknowledge him further, hoping that would be the end of whatever mischief Clint was undoubtedly trying to rope her into.

 

Quiet breathing was all that followed for the next several minutes, and Natasha was starting to believe she had been successful when the archer spoke again, “I went down to his lab about half an hour ago – looking for -...well, never mind that, but it looks like some sort of explosion has gone off in there...”

 

Natasha was instantly alert, trained body instinctively shifting to ‘ _protect and defend_ ; she pierced Clint with razor sharp eyes, demanding and precise.

 

 Clint, easily able to see and understand that he’d set ‘Black Widow’ on edge, was quick to raise his hands in placation, adding, “He looked fine, a bit blackened and singed, but I didn’t notice any actual burns or blood...”

 

Natasha relaxed just a little, keen mind pinpointing the flaw in Hawkeye’s report, “What do you mean, ‘ _notice_ ’, didn’t you look him over?” she asked, a mildly reproachful tone to her voice.

 

Hawkeye snorted disdainfully, “I didn’t even get a chance to _ask_ if he was alright, what, with him shouting at me to ‘get out’...”

 

Natasha clicked her tongue disapprovingly, saying “It’s _Tony_ , Clint – since when do you listen to his bluster, it’s his gener-”

 

Clint interrupted her, “I know that! Nat, this – this was different. _R_ _eal_. He was pissed, and I mean, like _furious._ I thought he might actually attack me if I didn't leave,  _physically_ attack me _..._ ”

 

Natasha raised her eyebrows in surprised disbelief; verbally, Tony could (often did) be brutally scathing, but it was extremely rare to see him physically conflictive outside of the Ironman suit. Staring at Clint, Natasha employed her skills, instincts and familiarity with the subject to gauge his sincerity, melodrama level and concern.

 

“His lab?” she confirmed, gracefully rising to her feet and leaving the room.

 

***

The clear glass walls and door of Tony’s usual lab, ‘subbasement level 3’, were darkened over with auto-tint when Natasha stopped before them.

 

Knocking politely she called, “Tony?”.

 

Nothing.

 

“Stark?” She tried again.

 

Still nothing.

 

Once again, this time more insistently, “Goddamn it. Stark!”

 

The door suddenly slid open a fraction and Tony - who quite honestly (and perhaps justifiably), often proclaimed himself to be somewhat terrified of Natasha - stuck his head through the gap, and snarled, “WHAT?” in her face.

 

Natasha didn’t even bat an eyelid, despite the fact that she’d gutted the last person who had spoken to her in that tone of voice.

 

With barely a raised eyebrow, she said, “Clint mentioned an... _accident,_ is everything, and _everyone_ , alright?”

Tony just snarled wordlessly and disappeared back into his lab, slamming the door.

 

Natasha stared after him, outwardly little more than exasperated, but inwardly unsettled by this show of unbridled hostility. 

 

Crossing her arms, and employing her own special brand of stubborn, Natasha called in a firm, flatly inflected voice.

 

“Stark.” Once

 

A beat. Nothing.

 

“Stark.” Twice

 

A beat. Nothing.

 

“Stark.” Thrice

 

A beat. Nothing.

 

“Tony Stark, I am not leaving until I get an all clear from you.” The sentence was definite, resolute and unavoidable, as Natasha had intended.

 

A beat. Nothing.

 

“Stark.” She could do this all day. She wouldn’t – but she could.

 

“St-”

 

The door slid open again, fully this time and Tony swept out into the hallway, hands raised in aggravated emphasis as he turned once, showing no burns, cuts, scrapes or blood, as he sneered, “I’m fine! See! Okay? Fan-fucking-tastic! Now go AWAY!”

 

The door jarred shut again, Tony on the other side and Natasha stared for a moment longer, contemplating if she should risk provoking the incensed Genius further.

  
Deciding that she had the confirmation of both his physical wellbeing and obvious anger, she shook her head, turned on her heel, and was gone.

 

*******

“Agent Barton, please inform your colleagues that an adolescent female has just delivered several boxes from a ‘Gordy’s Pizza’ to the lobby, citing your name - and that the door guard is conveying them up.” JARVIS intoned seriously, half programmed to be insufferably haughty and half self taught.

 

Clint, who had ordered said Pizza three quarters of an hour ago, replied, “Funny, JARVIS.” before pausing his movie and wandering into the hallway of their common level, heading towards the kitchen, shouting in a decisively ‘outdoor’ voice as he went, “PIZZA’S HERE!”

 

Two minutes later, a Thunder God, an All-American-Hero, a Green Rage Monster and two Master Assassins converged on their poor, quivering kitchen table.

 

Living in close quarters with a hollow-legged god, a national icon with a 4x faster than regular metabolism, a man eating for two (one being 8 foot tall and weighting 1500lbs) and well... _Clint –_ meant that one quickly learnt to be on time to meals or risk missing out.

 

Steve looked hopefully at the door for several moments, and then sighed at the typical absence of his lover. Knowing the Pizza would take a few more moments to arrive, he got to his feet, saying, “I’m going to go and see if I can’t tempt Tony from his lab, you did order his-”

 

Clint nodded as he answered, “Yeah, I got everyone’s favourites. Uh, good luck. And watch your back!” Natasha swatted at the archer and Clint grinned, ducking away.

 

Steve wondered at the strange advice, but then considering Tony’s usually working fervour, perhaps luck was warranted. He left the room to the sound of Thor’s massive fist thumping on the table, his loud voice intoning quite seriously, “Pizza! Food of the Gods.”

 

***

 

A short elevator ride down to the lower levels of Stark Tower found Steve standing outside the darkened windows of Tony’s current lab.  He couldn’t hear anything from the other side of the door, but wasn’t worried, as far as Tony was concerned, a lack of clattering and banging was certainly a good thing- it lowered the chances of an imminent explosion quite significantly.

 

Despite having his own unique access code for the door, Steve still knocked, manners availing as he called loudly, “Tony?”, waiting to see the windows lighten or the door to just whoosh open as it usually did.

 

There was no answer and Steve wondered if Tony might have his headphones in.

 

“JARVIS, is Tony streaming any music?” he asked, looking to the ceiling.

 

JARVIS answered negatively and Steve frowned, calling again, “Tony?  We’re having Pizza for lunch if you’re interested...” he said to the closed door.

Tony’s reply, which came suddenly, was a short and pointed, “I’m not.”

 

Steve wasn’t really fazed by the abruptness of the answer; knowing of his lover’s penchant for getting consumed by his work. He tried again, adding persuasively, “Are you sure, we ordered your favo-”

 

Tony still didn’t come to the door but his low growl was easily heard, “I’m not hungry Steve. I’m busy. Go away.”

 

Steve raised an eyebrow at the sharp rebuff; Tony was often distracted or vague while working, sometimes to the point of being curt or dismissive, but Steve rarely heard his charismatic lover being so deliberately rude – not without at least some pretence of justifiable cause.

 

Concern roughened his voice slightly as Steve asked, “Everything okay in there Tony?”

The responding shout of, _“YES! Now leave me alone!”_ went beyond rude and rolled right over into the hysteria of desperate anger.

 

Steve bristled with echoed anger and concerned exasperation , and raised a hand to punch in his entrance code, but then remembered Clint’s baffling advice; the Captain let his hand fall and turned, leaving the basement – intent on seeking out the rest of the facts before he attempted to right the situation.

 

*******

The pizza had already arrived when Steve got back to the kitchen, and he smiled thankfully as Bruce handed him a box that had been concealed from sight beneath the table.

He sat and opened the box, choosing a piece and taking a large bit, chewing and swallowing before turning to Clint and saying, “Right, spill. What do you know about... _that?_ ”

 

The Captain’s question got everyone’s attention, and Clint’s eyes widened as he answered, somewhat astonished, “He’s actually pissed with _you_ too...”

 

At Steve’s raised eyebrow and impatient look, the archer hurriedly added, “No! I know what I said earlier, but I was only shit stirring. I didn’t think he’d _really_ take his crappy mood out on _you_ too!”

 

Bruce abandoned his Pizza as he injected, “I’m assuming we’re talking about Tony, what’s going on?”

 

Clint, still directing his explanation to Steve, answered Bruce’s question, “Our resident billionaire is apparently in a foul enough mood to greet even his beloved cap with less than warmth...”

 

Bruce raised an eyebrow, and Thor turned concerned eyes to the conversation as Steve threatened, “ _Barton..._ ”

 

Clint raised his hands, mollifying quickly, “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t do anything. I think the ‘Tincan’ is just in a filthy temper because he blew up half his lab... _He’s Fine!_ ” When the hastily added reassurance didn’t seem to be doing the trick, either for Bruce or Steve, Clint threw his wild card, “He’s fine! Ask Natasha, she went and saw him as well!”

 

Bruce stopped rising from his seat and Steve paused half way to the door, both pinning Natasha with their concerned gazes.

 

The Black Widow chose her words carefully, “I went to check that he was alright, after he scared Clint away. Tony was, unwelcoming and hostile towards me.” She almost grinned at the looks that crossed several faces, continuing, “I did, eventually, confirm that he was physically unharmed, however he expressed quite,  _fervently_ , that I leave him alone. I felt it was best to heed his wishes.”

 

Bruce eased back down and Steve returned to his seat with a sigh, as the scientist said, “So, our conclusion is that Tony has blown up his lab again, but is unharmed, although uncharacteristically enraged...” – several nods- “ And despite his anger, all he is requesting is that he just be left alone? ’

 

Steve, Clint and Natasha all nodded their agreement, and Bruce finished, “Well – he’s not baiting or abusing any one, and everyone has the right to be angry occasionally - as long as he’s not hurting himself or anyone else,  I think we should just do what he wants and leave him alone for a while.......”

 

The answering nods were reluctant, but nods all the same.

 

It was nearly 20 minutes later, when the devouring of Pizza began to wind down, and eyeing the set aside box, it was Thor who got to his feet, saying, “It has been some 28 hours since Anthony partook in the requirements of sustenance, I shall deliver his meal. Do not fear – I shall endeavour to not overstay my welcome, and will not take his angry dismissal to heart... ”

 

The rest of the team looked a little dubious, but all would admit that they knew the genius found Thor to be highly entertaining and indulged the god’s curiosity with the patience of a scientist; if any of them were to receive a warm welcome it would be Thor.

 

***

Moments later, pizza box balanced between his palms, Thor’s voice boomed in the quiet of the hallway outside Tony’s lab, “Brother Stark, I have come to deliver your sustenance...”

 

There was no answering reply and Thor shrugged, raising one massive fist to knock loudly as he proclaimed, “I shall require you to open the door.”

 

The black sheeted glass reminded him of an Asgardian material and, knowing that Tony was fascinated by any and all other realm information, the god opened his mouth to temp the genius with the titbit, “Back in my realm I wou-”

 

“Fuck off back to Asgard then!” the shout was sudden and angry and Thor startled.

 

Lowering the Pizza slightly, Thor rumbled worriedly, “Is something amiss Brother St-”

 

The replying answer was spiteful and nasty, cutting through the empty air to slap across Thor’s friendly gesture, “I am _not_ your brother... Loki is a 6’2 murdering psychopath, remember? Now go away”

                                     

Thor left.

*******

Thor wondered back into the kitchen, a slightly dazed look on his face as he dropped his errand item onto the empty bench.

 

Clint, who had been tasked with clearing away the boxes and left over’s, noted the returned pizza, and said, commiserating, “It went that well, huh?”

 

Thor shrugged, an inscrutable look on his generally open face as he just turned and left the kitchen.

***

 

“What the hell did you say to Thor?” This time it was Clint’s irritated voice that cut through the silence of the basement corridor.

 

When no answer was forthcoming, the archer added, “You made the God of Thunder look like he was about to dissolve into a puddle of sobs, what did you say?”

 

Again there was only silence as an answer.

 

“Stark!” Clint’s voice lost a little of its irritation, replaced by exasperation.

 

“Get out here!” More exasperation and also the first touch of actual anger were clear in the calling voice.

 

Nothing.

 

“Stark?” This time the call was softer and irritation was accompanied by a hint of confused anxiety.

 

“STARK?” Loud and demanding, this was the voice of ‘Hawkeye’.

 

“ _Tony?”_ Worry crept in, despite the strongly protesting infuriation.

 

“Fine, be an asshole.” Angry concern emanated loudly in Clint’s voice.

 

“At least thump on something so I don’t have to go tell Steve you’re dead.” _Dread._

 

_Bash, bang, clatter, crash._

_“_ Right, alive then. _”_ Exasperated relief, clouded by annoyance was apparent.

_“_ Bastard _” Aggravation, dissatisfaction, uneasiness and resignation._

 

Clint turned and walked away, only realising later that he’d never actually found out what he’d gone down there to find out.

 

*******

It was hours later, Steve having disappeared for a run, Natasha busy in the kickboxing gym and Thor was holed up in his room.

 

Bruce and Clint had coincidentally wandered into the kitchen at the same time, and had settled at the bench to drink their preferred beverages together.

 

No one had forgotten the dark cloud that lingered in their basement, but no had approached him again either.

 

Consequently, both Clint and Bruce stared as the door opened and Tony stepped into the kitchen. The engineer froze and then visibly made himself relax, moving towards the coffee machine with easy steps, yet not meeting either of his friend’s eyes as he went.

Clint, unable to resist sure danger, poked the tiger- taunting sweetly, “Smiling yet, princess?”

 

Tony’s voice was devoid any usual humour as he shot back heatedly, “Fuck you, Barton.”

 

Clint shook his head mournfully as he replied, “Apparently not. What are you doing out of your cave anyway?”

 

“Coffee.” It was a low snarl, Tony obviously getting angrier at their continued presence.

 

Without really thinking it through, concern caused Bruce to suggest softly, “Maybe, try some tea, less caf-”, from where he sat nursing his own cup.

 

Tony seemed to just snap.

 

He spun to face them; half filled coffee cup smashing to the ground as he raged, “NO! I don’t want any fucking tea!” and the man shoved past the table and its shocked occupants.

 

Heading for the door, he snarled mockingly over his shoulder, “I’m busy! I have research to do! I’m trying to figure out how to become a giant green rage monster and kill everyone.....Oh wait, that’s already been done!”

 

The kitchen door slammed shut behind Tony as he stormed out, vibrating in its frame.

 

Clint stared at Bruce, Bruce stared back.

 

Clint whispered, “That _did not_ just happen.

 

*******

 

Tony stalked out of the kitchen, slamming door behind him and stepped angrily forward, only to be stopped short as he smacked into a solid, immovable surface.

 

A wall of solid flesh.

 

An absolutely livid gaze landed on him, doing almost as much to pin Tony to the spot as the heavy hand that landed on his shoulder.

 

“I **know** I couldn’t have heard what I thought I just heard”, it was said in an almost silent snarl, more terrifying than the loudest shout and Tony tried to meet the furious blue gaze, absently noting the concrete hard eyes.

 

 Every instinct was screaming at him to _stand down,_ to _run, hide_... so naturally, he opened his mouth, “ _Steve?_ Fuck. Off.”

 

Steve blinked once and then lunged at him.

 

*******

 

Steve was... _careful._

Normally where Tony was concerned, he was full on _gentle_ , but not this time.

 

Not when he felt such anger, such _fury_ towards his lover, such as he’d never thought he _could_ feel, let alone _would_ feel _;_ not at _Tony._

_So he was careful, but not exactly gentle, when he swung the smaller body, up and over his shoulder, allowing him to land with as much grace as a sack of potatoes._

 

Tony huffed a surprised cry, but was otherwise silent as he gasped for the breath that was forced from his stomach by the hard shoulder it made contact with. Steve set off for the safety and relative privacy of their upper floor apartment.

 

The silence didn’t last, and the elevator was soon filled with a venomous tirade from the general vicinity of his hips.  Tony swore fluently in several languages, besmirched the character, lineage and personality of everyone member of his team and then some, yelled, screeched, fumed and raged.

 

Steve ignored him.

 

Tony, despite knowing that it was futile, tried struggling, but found that a determined Steve was a steadfast Steve; there was almost no chance he would be able to break his lovers grip.

 

Steve entered their bedroom moments later and dumped Tony onto the bed. The irate man immediately rolled across the blankets and dropped to the floor, snarling a vicious curse at Steve as he shoved past the blond, intent on getting the hell _away._

Steve wasn’t having any of that and grabbed his arm, tugging the smaller man back off his feet and flung him down across the bed, following with his own body, using his weight to hold his lover to the mattress.

 

“Fuc-” Tony’s insulting barb was muffled by the large hand coming around to seal the maliciously taunting lips. 

Steve - baffled, hurt, concerned and _so angry_ , didn’t want to hear the hurtful words that would no doubt be directed his way. He was also pretty sure that Tony didn’t really want to be saying them and was going to deeply regret having uttered them later, and Steve wished to prevent whatever of that guilt he could.

 

 

 _At last he hoped that Tony didn’t mean it_ \- but the blond couldn’t say he was particularly certain that this behaviour was all ‘ _heat of the moment_ ’ anger; he’d seen the look on Tony’s face as he’d left the kitchen after tearing Bruce down, and the expression in his eyes had been... _frightening._

_Triumphant, gleaming victory._

Steve would have been on the hunt for the ‘alien body snatchers’ who had stolen his boyfriend, had he not also seen a glimmer of insincerity and , something else. A shadow of self loathing perhaps, lingering in wide brown eyes.

 

It was only this _unknown reason_ that had stopped him from decking Tony where he stood outside the kitchen, and instead he’d scooped him up and retreated to their rooms, intent on sorting out exactly what was going on in his lovers head.

 

From what he’d experienced before lunch, discussed with the others and overheard with Bruce, Steve knew Tony had been in an absolutely _foul_ mood all day; and despite knowing (hoping) that _something_ must have caused the anger to begin with, he really couldn’t think of anything that would excuse such hateful spite.

 

As disbelieving and furious as he was, and more than a little concerned, Steve wouldn’t allow Tony to behave as he was for any reason, and so he pinned the genius face first to the bed, half laying across his back.

 

“Until you’re ready to tell me what is wrong, I don’t want to hear a word.” Steve intoned firmly, and he then he waited.

 

*******

 

 

God knows, Tony was stubborn, but Steve...Steve had the patience of a saint.

 

It was being tested now though...thoroughly.

 

The blond Captain had his lover well and truly restrained, broad chest settled across Tony’s back, crushing weight partially supported by the arm that wasn’t attached to the hand he had clamped across the mouth he usually found so delectable.

 

Tony fairly _vibrated_ with malice beneath the heavy mass of his body and Steve could all but feel the venom splashing against his palm as the vile insults and abuse continued to flow, despite the fact that they went unheard.

 

Steve was well aware that Tony Stark could have an absolutely filthy mouth, if he chose to, but had never heard it directed towards anyone less than deserving and certainly not towards his own team.

 

Tony could- and did- snark and sass at the lot of them; mocking, sarcastic and teasing, but _never_ this vile, toxic abuse, aimed to actually _hurt._

Steve had been slightly put out and a little concerned after their short discussion at lunchtime, upset by Tony’s derisive and biting dismissal, but had eventually put it down to badly handled stress and fatigue, sure he’d get a kiss and a lapful of Tony in apology later.

 

And then he’d heard what Tony had said to Bruce.

 

 _Bruce_ – who had enough self-love issues without having someone he trusted and respected throw the ‘Hulk’ in his face.

 

Steve had seen red, unable to fathom that _Tony,_ Bruce’s greatest advocate and supporter; would suddenly turn on the man with such venom.

 

Steve and Tony- well, they argued; as a couple, of course they did – Tony spending too much time working and not enough sleeping and eating, or Steve, frustrated because of something of this new century that he didn’t quite understand.

 

But every disagreement was a result of concern or irritation, tempered by love, understanding and affection.

 

And now, here they were- Tony, ferocious and brutal in his anger and Steve, silent and cold in his answering fury.

***

 

It had been twenty minutes, and Steve was half admiring and half detesting the Stark prerogative that was ‘Don’t do _anything_ by halves’.

 

Feeling the barely contained anger, coiling tensely in the rigid body beneath his, and the vitriol still escaping his lover’s lips, the Captain was starting to get to the point where he seriously considering masking tape as a viable option.  His original thought had been to just let Tony wear himself out, and then attempt to _fix_ whatever was wrong once the genius was calm, but Steve was beginning to realise that Tony wasn’t going to give in gracefully.

 

Because when did Tony Stark _ever_ not fight tooth and nail?

 

And then Tony went still - silent and still – beneath him.

 

It was as if all the fight had just left the limp body in one swift purge, and Steve almost panicked, afraid that he’d inadvertently harmed his love.

 

Then he registered the soft, shallow breathing against his palm, and the tautness that stretched beneath the surface of Tony’s subdued form.

 

Cautiously lifting his weight from Tony’s back, Steve gently turned him over, until the smaller form was flat on his back, still lying calmly beneath his heavier lover.

 

He appeared completely and utterly in control again, composed and confident – except that his brown eyes hadn’t once met Steve’s blue.

 

Taking a steadying breath Steve asked, “Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?”

 

Tony blinked once as he seemed to hear and process the question from far away, and then he nodded, opened his mouth and said with finality, “It’s over.  _We’re_ over.”

 

Steve’s breath was stolen from him in a single heart stopping rush and he stared down at his... _his Tony...his everything_.

 

A large hand grasped Tony’s still slightly blackened face, and Steve, heart now beating a thousand beats a second, tugged until Tony had no choice but to meet his eyes.

They were dull, yet shiny and the man did his best to stare _through_ Steve, but the blond saw what was in them anyway, and his heart rate steadied again.

 

He leaned down, hand holding Tony’s face still when his lover tried to turn away. Eyes locked, Steve intoned with definite surety, “No, _We’re not._ ” And then he kissed him.

 

Tony went rigid in his arms, tension stretching his every muscles as Steve held him immobile, defenceless against the wave of overwhelming passion that Steve assailed him with.

 

It was angry and controlling, and Steve forced the point, pushing past Tony’s unresponsive lips, devouring his love’s reticence, so sure he was right, but achingly terrified of being wrong.  His teeth nipped sharply, and he growled, demanding _something_ , _some response_ from Tony, the shadow of doubt grew with each passing instant of impassiveness from the lax mouth beneath his.

 

Steve felt stars of building hysteria start forming behind his eyelids as his absolute sureness began to waver, and then Tony, taut in his arms, shuddered and snapped like a too-tight rubber band, tautness draining out of his body as he melted into Steve’s grasp and finally, _finally_ returned the kiss.

 

Heated and dominant, Steve plundered the now welcoming warm depths, slowly gentling as Tony whimpered a shattered cry against hard lips. Point proven and vindicated, Steve disregarded that he was angry, ignored that he was concerned, and for a moment there was just Tony and Steve and all-consuming love.

 

The gentle press of warm lips to warm lips ended the kiss, and Steve pulled back slightly, both hands coming up to frame Tony’s face as he drilled his gaze into brown pools, ensuring that the next message was received with as much clarity as possible, “Don’t you _ever_ tell me we’re over, not so long as you love me.”

 

It wasn’t a demand or an order, but instead a plea, and Tony nodded with sincere apologetic acknowledgment as he reached up and pulled Steve back down to ghost a whispered, “I’m sorry...” against his skin, followed by, “I love you”.

 

Steve rested his forehead against Tony’s, and just contented himself with breathing in his scent, all _Tony –_ if slightly singed.

 

The day’s events rushed back to him and he reluctantly pulled himself back up onto one arm, and looking down at Tony’s soft smile, and almost hating himself, despite knowing the necessity, asked, “I want the truth this time, tell me what’s been going on today.”

 

Tony froze in his slight shifting beneath Steve and his eyes widened as his face bleached of all colour, Steve able to see as the blood drained from his face. The Captain was pretty sure that if they’d been on their feet, Tony would have passed out.

 

“Hey!? Tony? Tony! Do I need to get Bru-” his anxious questions were cut off when Tony took a deep shuddering breath, followed by another, calming himself.

 

“N-No..zI just, I can’t believe I forgot!” his voice was slightly manic, and his giggles somewhat wetly hysterical as he pulled Steve down to bury his face in the willingly provided chest.

 

Despite the shock, colour was starting to sweep his face again, so Steve calmed himself as well.

 

A moment later, when Tony wasn’t forthcoming himself, Steve urged, “Forgot what, love?”

 

Tony didn’t look up from where he’d hidden his face, a head shake the only answer Steve received.

 

The blond pushed again, “Tony. You need to te-” he was cut off when Tony bristled slightly, his rebuff starting to get angry.

 

Steve gazed down, taking in the adamant refusal, buried face and the hands that had slipped beneath his T-shirt, fingers cool against his warm skin.

 

 _Avoidance_ , the anger was avoidance.

 

It was a typical move in Tony’s emotional evasion arsenal and Steve was kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. Numerous previous experiences with his loves’ flaws and perfection guided Steve, and his hand came up to card through silky waves of dark hair as he spoke in a low murmur, voice was smooth and soft and so, so comforting,  “Tony... _I’m not going to leave you alone, you can’t push me, away, I want you to tell me_...”

 

And as easily as that Tony gave in, anger washing away as if it had never been there, because in reality, it hadn’t.

 

It was a muffled murmur against Steve’s chest, but the super-soldier heard it, right down to the shaking grief that suddenly poured forth, “Last night, or this morning actually, I – I ...there was...a fire and ... I didn’t – I just...I was okay, but then.....and Dummy, he..well,  he was trying to – to put it out, but it was too big – and he...he’s gone!”

 

Steve felt his heart clench and he gasped in dismayed sympathy.

 

Tony, obviously misunderstanding Steve’s reaction quickly added with a slightly watery edge to his voice, “I didn’t mean - I mean, It was an accident – but I still...and he’s still!”

 

Steve swept him closer, as he corrected soothingly, “No, sweetheart, no...I know it was an accident, I’m so, so sorry...”

 

And Steve thought he finally understood the cause of Tony’s alarming behaviour; because those three robots in his lab, and JARVIS, were as close as Tony had to beloved pets, friends and children.

 

For a long time, until only recently, they were as close as he’d had to family.

 

Part of his legacy; time, energy, frustration, devotion and love having gone into their design, creation and improvement. Tony took pride in their successes and accomplishments and responsibility for their fallibilities.

 

Dummy, was however, not a child, but a robot and Steve had to ask, “Tony, love, have you - I mean, can you fix him?”

 

Tony sniffled a teary huffed laugh against his chest as he answered, “ _I tried,_ for hours and hours...but – he was a learning bot. Even if I fix the circuitry and electrics, he’ll never be the-... _Dummy I destroyed!_ ”

 

At the first gasping sob, Steve knew that it was the first time Tony had said the words aloud, and gently pulled himself into a sitting position, bringing Tony with him to cradle loosely in his arms, able to feel the scalding tears against his throat.

 

Steve knew that it was part grief and part shock at the suddenness of the loss that breached the carefully erected barriers around Tony’s emotions and was partially glad at the release, well aware that if he’d not pushed, then Tony would have just added this loss to the myriad of others he had bottled up inside.

 

It took several long moments before Tony settled quietly against his chest, and Steve was loathe to disturb him, but knew there was one other thing they had to discuss before Tony had a chance to sweep it under the mat.

 

Tony beat him to it though, looking up to say softly, “I’m sorry love, – for how I treated you, I just- _W_ _hat if you’re next,_ what if I get _you_  killed ne-“

 

Steve had to cut him off with a kiss of absolute exasperation as he said, “If you hadn’t been in shock, I’d say you were the absolute _stupidest_ genius I have ever met...”

 

At Tony’s askance look Steve elaborated, “Tony – you live with five of the most dangerous people on the planet. I’m pretty sure that we can get ourselves, or you, killed a hell of a lot easier than by an accident in your lab.... ”

 

Tony blinked once and the smiled sheepishly as the true _idiocy_ of his grief stricken conclusion dawned.

 

Steve was speaking again, and Tony turned his attention back to hear the Captain add, “...-sides which, I seriously doubt there is anything you could say or do, apart from world domination, that would even shake the foundation of my feelings for you, and even then, I’d probably join you. And I know that everyone else would likely agree with me...”

 

Tony sniggered through the blush that painted his cheeks as he started to add,  “Everyo- _Thor and, oh god, Bruce._ ” as recollection of the abuse he’d flung at his well meaning friends returned, a look of such pure self-hate invaded his expression that Steve had to interrupt.

 

Hands gentle on Tony’s back and voice soothing, Steve was still firm as he spoke, “I wish you had told us, _me,_ instead of pushing us away to hurt alone, and while you owe us an apology, and certain people a _hell of an apology -_ you should probably know that Bruce thought your attempt at verbally abusing him was pitiful, that someone with your inside knowledge of his personal demons and dreams should have better fodder than the same old taunts that everyone else uses. Frankly, I think he was disappointed...”

 

Tony snorted in amusement, but still looked worried as he said, “I told Thor his brother was a 6’2 psychopathic murderer....”

 

Steve sighed, leaning down for a kiss as he answered dryly, “ _Tony._ Thor’s brother _is_ a 6’2 psychopathic murderer... _and he’s adopted –_  so it’s okay to take one cheap shot.. _._ ”

 

Tony snorted again, eyes starting to droop as his emotionally fatigued mind started to catch up to his physically exhausted body - but so _pleased_ he had this lot for a family.

 

And despite being only 7pm at night, Steve watched affectionately as he dropped off to sleep.

 

***

 

 

_And if Tony sat bolt upright an hour and three minutes later to exclaim, “I can fix him!”, turning to drop a kiss on his lover’s amused lips, before scrambling out of the bed and disappearing – well, that’s pretty much what Steve had come to expect and love._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go- hopefully tomorrow!


	7. False Pretences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony finally comes to bed on his own, but Steve still puts him to sleep.

&1.

**Sunday 1 st – 2:12am**

Blinking slowly, eyes unseeing in the black of their bedroom, Steve didn’t have to turn to know that he was alone in their bed.

He’d gone to bed at about 11 o’clock the previous night, and instead of dropping off relatively quickly, as was usual, Steve had tossed and turned, sleep evading him completely, until finally, he’d given in.

 

He’d spent the past 2 hours staring up at the black ceiling.

He wasn’t 100% certain what was causing this sudden bout of insomnia, but thought that the complete lack of light was a probable cause – strange, considering that most people usually slept in the dark.  

 

Steve however, was used to a subtle blue glow illuminating their dark room with muted rays.

 

He supposed that really, it wasn’t the light he had trouble sleeping without, but its owner.

 

Turning, he sought out the button that lit up the neon glowing digits of his old style alarm clock; showing the time as 2:15am, and Steve sighed as he flung an arm up over his eyes, flopping down onto his back again.

 

By his count, it had only been 21 hours since Tony had last slept, not even a full day’s work by the genius’s’ usual standards, and at least 16 hours short of Steve possibly being able to physically remove him from the lab and tote him off to bed.

 

It hadn’t even been a long enough working binge for Tony to start mainline pure coffee properly, the genius ventured out every 6 or so hours- but Steve was still, not worried, but perhaps... _uneasy._

It had been a long, _long_ month – there had been two incidents that had called for an ‘all-hands on deck’ Avenger’s response and numerous others that had required either the ‘Tony Stark’ charm, or Ironman’s conflict resolution. 

 

Tony had also been pulling stints of 35+ hours of insomnia repeatedly, catching a few hours sleep and then diving into the next 35 hour lab period, and Steve knew that the few hours his love _was_ getting every couple of days, wasn’t enough in the long run, and that a crash and burn was inevitable if he didn’t do something soon.

 

And on top of all that, Steve was _tired_ , andapparently he wasn’t going to be able to sleep without Tony curled beneath him.

***

It wasn’t just a matter of asking Tony to get some sleep -Steve knew he’d refuse adamantly; Tony had been nearly manic with his need to get his latest projects complete.

 

The Captain was sure that Tony _would_ come to bed immediately if Steve told him that he was unable to sleep without him, but then Tony would no doubt start feeling guilty and worrying about the times in the future when he did _have_ to be in the lab or away, so that was an absolute last resort.

 

He needed to convince Tony to come to him and then to stay, to sleep...

 

_Slowly, a plan started to form._

_***_

JARVIS enabled communication patched him through to the basement labs and Steve put plan ‘ _Bed Tony_ ’ into action.

 

“Tony?” he called, voice deliberately loud to startle through Tony’s absorbed focus.

 

There was a beat of silence and then sound of something being dropped before Tony’s preoccupied voice carried absently into their bedroom, “...Steve?”

 

The Captain smiled as he pictured Tony looking confusedly around his lab for the source of the voice, but easily able to hear the fledgling exhaustion in his lovers tone, he answered, “Yeah, Sweetheart. I’m upstairs, come to bed?”

 

Tony’s sigh wavered tentatively, as he obviously tried to formulate his refusal, “I’m fine for a while longer, it’s only been a few hours. I – I really need to finish- and I’m- I’m not tired yet...”

 

The last was a blatant lie, or at least, it would have been had Tony was able to registered the fatigue that had built in his sleep starved body over the past few weeks.

 

Steve didn’t try arguing, just lowered his voice to a velvety smooth _‘come hither’_ murmur, repeating, “Tony.... _come to bed._ ”

 

There was silence followed by a soft “Oh.... _Oh!_ ” as Steve’s meaning dawned on the engineer.

 

The sound of ruffling paper and soft footfalls accompanied Tony’s parting sentence, his voice slightly breathless as he babbled, “Uh, I can – I guess I can spare an hour or so. Yes...I’ll be up – up- in just a minute...”

 

_‘Phase one complete’_

***

_‘Now for phase two – the difficult part.’_

It was slightly longer than a minute later, but Tony still made good time in his trek from the basement lab and their penthouse suite, slipping through the doors that silently opened to admit him.

 

Looking up as the door opened, Steve smiled from where he was seated on the edge of the bed. He blushed slightly and grinned at the steady gaze that traced his resplendently naked body from head to toe, but was pleased with the appreciative hunger he saw reflected from Tony’s eyes.

 

Silently he held out a hand, and Tony padded towards him, fingers reaching out to clasp with his.

 

As soon as the genius was in reaching distance, Steve swiftly launched his attack, lifting Tony onto his lap and engulfing him in a tight embrace.    His lover leant into his strength as his satisfied smile was smothered by Steve’s demanding lips.  Steve yanked Tony closer, plastering the smaller form completely flush against him, without a breadth of space separating them and deepened the kiss; his tongue seeking entrance and not relinquishing control.   

 

Steve played dirty as he gently nipped Tony’s’ bottom lip, and licked the smarting area at his lovers scandalised yelp. His distraction worked and Tony admitted defeat gracefully, relaxing into a boneless pile of goo in Steve’s arms as he allowed the man to soundly kiss him, a feat which the Captain gladly performed, plundering his sweet mouth unhindered, tongue tasting, exploring every inch of the delectable heaven.

 

Tony, thoroughly distracted, barely even noticed as Steve stripped him of his shirt and sweatpants, other than to whimper a complaint as their lips separated.  A firm hand passed over his groin, and he bucked wildly, desperately seeking more contact, not caring about the chuckles he heard at his eagerness.

 

Steve gazed down adoringly at his lover, naked body relaxed languidly across most of his lap. The engineer easily trusting Steve’s upper body strength to keep him from slamming headfirst to the floor, brown eyes dark with passion, small panting puffs escaping red swollen lips and high points of colour accenting the soft pale skin.

 

Steve, as always, was mesmerised by the sight of his lover.

 

Tony was so gorgeous, stunningly beautiful in the soft glow of the reactor, eyes huge and passion blown...and completely and utterly _Steve’s._  The super soldier wanted nothing more than to continue down their avenue of love making; wanted to reduce Tony to a whimpering, exhausted wreck of longing, wanted to bask in the desire that constantly burned within him, and could see that was exactly what Tony wanted as well.

 

It was only the increasingly dark circles under brown eyes, and the subtle aura of heaviness that blanketed his lover that had Steve forcing himself to follow the plan.

 

Leaning back down to meeting the pouting lips in a series of small kisses, Steve trailed them in a wet path across the man’s cheek and down his slender throat and across one bare shoulder, shifting them as he went, sliding Tony across to rest on his back on the bed, his own body looming over his lover’s, propped up one arm as he returned to the warm, welcoming lips.

 

The kiss was hot, wet and sexy, Steve doing his utmost to prolong the low wanton moan that Tony was breathing into his mouth. He slid a heavy leg between warm thighs, Tony gasping and murmured his obvious approval.

 

And then, knowing he could easily lose control of the situation, Steve changed the direction of the kiss, lightening the press of his lips and gentling his tongue to a series of soft flick’s and twists.

 

Tony, genius that he was, cottoned on quickly to what Steve was attempting to do and he hummed his disapproval, bucking his hips up, attempting to recreate the draining friction.  Steve murmured a soft admonition against pouting lips and settled a little more of his weight against his lover, stifling his attempts to reignite the make-out session.

 

Tony’s grumble of complaint became a resigned sigh of contentment when Steve, ‘Tony Expert’ that he was, sank long fingers into dark wavy hair, fingertips creating a slow massage against his scalp. Heated passion became languid, lingering warmth that soothed and calmed, and Steve knew he’s made the right decision, when he caught the tail end of the contented sigh that spilt from kiss woollen lips and recognised the peaceful relaxation stealing into already drooping brown eyes.

 

Tony, because he was Tony, had to make sure Steve understood he was giving in under duress, softly protested, “Don’t you go thinking, Mr smug, that I’m unaware of the false pretences you coaxed me up here under....”

 

Steve sniggered and pressed his lips ever so gently against Tony’s, more of a peck than a kiss, a _barely there_ hint...and then he did it again...and again. And because he was quite a bit wicked than most would believe of the naive golden boy, Steve leaned in close to Tony’s ear, running the tip of his tongue along the extra sensitive shell, and sniggering at the sudden intake of breath as he dropped his voice to a husky, guttural rumble, whispering, “Tell you what, I’ll make you an offer. You go to sleep now, and when you wake up.... _I’ll_ _fuck you right through this mattress....._ ”

 

Steve snickered as his specially chosen, out of character words, did their intended duty. Tony shuddered beneath him, whimpering as his eyes crossed, and turned his face into Steve’s chest as arousal blossomed though him.

 

Tony’s voice was a muffled squeak as he replied, “Steve!   I can’t just, I mean – I’m right in the middle of fixi-  I really have to pull the data across....”

Steve could tell by the way that Tony hadn’t even made an attempt to move way that he’d already won; and that Tony was just having difficult coming to terms with that and trying to shut his overtired and caffeinated brain down.

 

Steve tucked him closer, fingers returning to their mesmerising massage through soft hair as he murmured, “It’ll keep, love. JARVIS has got it...”

 

His other hand came up to rest in its familiar position over the arc –reactor, but tonight Steve gently rubbed his thumb across the small patch of reachable skin, in a steady and repeated sweeping motion.

 

Slowly the mutters of protest died out, and Tony sighed in passive acceptance, turning slightly into the warm of Steve’s body, eyes closing in what appeared to be a blink that just didn’t reopen, chest gradually rising and falling slower and slower.

 

Steve, feeling his own lack of energy now that phase two was successful, dropped his head down next to Tony’s, pressing a kiss against warm skin as he closed his own eyes, thumb still rubbing its gentle path as he relaxed.

 

A smile of indulgent affection creased Steve’s lips as his lover shifted against him, a garbled afterthought escaping Tony’s mostly asleep mind in a half mumbled sentence, “Oh, and love? – I’ll take your deal...” and then, between one breath and the next, they were asleep.

 

************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it folks, for 'Love Lies Sleeping'!!! 
> 
> Thanks to all who read and a huge thanks to those who took the time to comment!
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this 5&1.
> 
> Keep an eye out for more in this series soon!

**Author's Note:**

> -Story starts next chap *Sorry :)
> 
> -Completed 5&1 - posted one chap per night (finishing touches to be done)
> 
> -Please Enjoy and comment.


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